


The Children of Ice and Fire

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, House Stark, House Targaryen, Peace, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:56:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 120,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Daeron Stark dead peace has come to Westeros, but the game of thrones and the game of ice and fire continues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Children Of Ice And Fire

**King Daemon Stark**

Two years he had been king, two years since his grandfather Daeron Stark the Winter Dragon had died. Two years of peace and plenty for the north, it felt knowing that there was no outward risk of war, at least not just now. Daemon had made sure that the terms of the treaty were enforced he made sure that his cousin Quellon Greyjoy knew that there would be strict punishments for any Ironborn that went on raiding missions or tried with full knowledge to break the peace agreements, so far the Ironborn had stayed true to the terms of the peace and had resorted to doing trading and other more legal means of bringing coin and prosperity to their islands.

Elsewhere in the kingdom, Daemon had ensured that the ports of Stony Shore and White Harbour were furthered enhanced and developed so much so that it could be argued that they rivalled Oldtown and King’s Landing as centres of trade in Westeros. He also made sure that the towns and cities developed inland were allowed access to trade with the free cities and with the other places that fell under the north’s domain especially the summer islands, where the Ironborn colonies continued to hold sway. All in all trade had developed quite well since the peace, and Daemon was relieved to have become king when all the parties involved with the wars of the previous generation were dead.

This was mainly due to that the fact that with the peace treaty in place more trade was happening between the north and the south than had happened since the first Blackfyre war. This had as such allowed for many things to happen that benefitted the north more than they benefitted the south, for example there were more people coming to the southern north to see the wonders that were present and as such Daemon had been able to bring in coin from those who sought to see the lizard lions and other animals in the neck and the Wolfswood. Though he  did not want much to do with the south, not after the loss of Samaira and Jorelle, he was not so blind as to not see the benefits that came from trading with them, the south lacked for timber, wool and furs that would be needed in the winter that was coming and as such they were willing to pay hefty prices for the goods, in return for modest returns on their own products that were traded in the north, such as spices from Dorne, and wine and grapes from the Reach.

Daemon also knew that the people of his kingdom were more than glad that the wars of the past few decades were at an end, though the nobles suffered a lot during the wars, it was the smallfolk who paid the greatest price during the wars that were waged. They lost men and women and children alike to the fighting and sometimes to the diseases that the soldiers brought back with them from the south, and these things had drained the populations of the kingdom significantly, that was one of the things that Daemon resented his grandfather for, the fact that his grandfather was so content to wage war and would not worry about the effect such actions were having on his people the ones who made it possible for the crops to be harvested and for collections to be made, and yet that he was still remembered with a fierce passion and fondness in the north by lords and smallfolk alike even though it was Daemon and Maester Aemon who had done the rebuilding. That stung a bit, but it also gave him something to work with smallfolk or lords who complained overtly about something or the other, they did not want to shame the memory of the Winter Dragon and so they did what they were told to do by Winterfell.

The Lyseni had also recanted on their postulated aggression, the thing that had made Daemon and the council hesitate to truly engage in the war of the Ninepenny kings, the Lyseni had sent pirates north to test the defences of the north and the pirates had been destroyed and flayed and skinned for information. The chief pirate’s head was sent back to the leaders of Lys as a warning and after that they ceased all their previous postulations and accepted trade remissions and more gold to pay for the timber that the north sold them. It was good for Daemon, as it showed that he would take no nonsense from anybody and as such that he was not living within the shadow of his grandfather, impressive as the man had been, Daemon was determined to be his own man, and as such he was convinced he was.

Things were finally easy within the family as well, with his grandfather dead it was easier for the family to function without the cloud of unease that Daeron Stark had pervaded over his children, grandchildren and anyone even related to him. Though Daemon’s grandmother had retired to the Wolf’s Den to spend time with her brother’s descendants, Daemon’s sister Rhaenrya had returned to Winterfell following the death of her husband Laenor from a chill and the ascension of her son Jeor to the lordship of Bear Island, the boy was a good lad and would make a fine lord, that he already had a son whom he had named Jorah seemed to help. Rhaenrya had brought her daughter Maege with her, Daemon’s little niece was a fierce little thing who often reminded him of his cousin Robyn. As for his aunt Elaena she remained in Greywater Watch following the death of her husband Lord Donnor Reed, a good man and loyal, his son Daeron Reed who Daemon had envied growing up was now a good friend, but the Reeds rarely visited Winterfell now so preoccupied were they with other things.

As for his own actual family, Daemon could not be happier, his daughters Daenaera and Delena brightened up his days when the council were being frustrating and they also provided distraction from the many things he had to think about and consider in ruling the north. Daenaera looked just like him with her silver hair and purple eyes, a quiet little girl was his Daenaera but even at the age of two Daemon knew she would be a proper little lady, like his own mother had been. Delena was a loud little babe, a year old but fierce all the same and demanding. And then there was Aemon, his two moon old son and heir, the boy looked just like Visenya with her widow’s peak and silver hair and violet eyes, if he was honest Daemon was relieved his son had been born for now it meant his duty had been done and for the time being he would not have to do anything more with his wife for the time being. It was not that he did not like his wife, he did, it was just that they were more friends than anything else and that too their friendship was awkward and strained, their conversations were nothing more than duty and it angered him, though he knew not how to change it. His wife seemed determined to keep it that way and he would not force the matter, he was not his grandfather.

The opening of the council doors shook him from his thoughts; he had called the council to discuss various issues that had been brought to his attention. The Lord Commander of the Winter’s Guard Edrick Snow was already present in the room, the lords who walked in included high steward and lord of Moat Cailin Rickard Stark a good man honest and true, High Justiciar Lord Rodwell Karstark, High Shadow Lord Brandon Dreadstark, Lord Treasurer the jovial Lord Wyman Manderly Lord of White Harbour, High Admiral Lord Edwyn Berstark a fierce man and finally Grand Maester Aemon for whom Daemon’s son had been named for. Daemon cleared his throat once the lords had all sat down. “My lords I thank you for coming. It has been some time since our last meeting I would hear what events have occurred since we last met.”

Grand Maester Aemon spoke first, his voice clear and strong. “After the last court session I took the liberty to look into the issues that Lord Donnor Umber brought before Your Grace, and have made some suggestions based on the evidence at hand for us.” Daemon nods and the maester goes on. “Given that it seems that the wildlings seem to be growing in number and the raiding parties from them seem to be growing as well, it seems advisable that the crown seriously consider strengthening and fortifying the gift and the lands near it. Raymun Redbeard caught Lord Willam of guard last time, such a thing cannot happen again.”

Daemon nods and then says. “Rickard I want you to send word to the houses Glover and Umber as well as to the Mountain clans, tell them that they are to send men to camp on the gift and near the lands bordering Last Hearth. Should a raiding party cross they are to capture them and question them using any methods necessary.” Lord Rickard nods and then Daemon asks. “Now what more has occurred since we last met?”

Lord Edwyn Berstark speaks then, his voice sharp. “There has been word from the commander of the Sea Wolf, it appears that the auld alliance of Tyrosh, Lys and Myr is getting together and is looking for ships to fuel their growing campaign.”

Lord Rickard speaks then. “And to what purpose does their campaign serve for us my lord?”

Berstark looks at Rickard and says. “Nothing my lord steward, it is simply that the talk is that they mean to attack Volantis, and as such have begun asking around the commanders of ships formerly of the royal navy for ships with which to attack Volantis.”

Lord Brandon Dreadstark speaks then his voice serious and grim. “What Lord Edwyn says is correct. Lys, Tyrosh and Myr have reformed into the three daughters led by Saaro Saan the pirate king, and they aim to bring down Volantis and remove Targaryen or dragon influence from Essos for good. My sources across the sea say that they lack a significant fleet though and so have set their sights on Yunkai and the north as valuable assets for the naval strength we could provide them.”

Daemon speaks then. “Seal the port for the time being Lord Edwyn. I shall see what these envoys want myself, and until I do they cannot leave, nor can any rogue captains leave. If they try to hang them and give their ships to someone more loyal and truthful.” Lord Edwyn nods and Daemon then asks. “Now what of trade, Lord Wyman how goes the trade in preparation for winter?”

Lord Wyman a young and jovial man, who looks as if he will tend to fat in his older years, looks at the papers before him before speaking. “Trade is prospering Your Grace. Bravos and Qohor and Lorath all have made the payments for the goods they loaned from us, and have now paid for complete ownership of them. Lys, Tyrosh and Myr have all asked for increased shipments of wood and mortar, undoubtedly for their ships now, they promise to pay thrice as much as they currently are for the increased shipments.”

Daemon is silent for a moment and then he says. “Very well, tell them that we shall accept thrice the payment for one more increase in their shipment. So long as they are only building merchant vessels and not war galleys. I want a representative from White Harbour who we can trust going with the shipment and staying until the ships are built. Lord Wyman you shall consult with Lord Rickard on the matter.”

“There is also one more issue Your Grace,” Lord Rickard says. Daemon nods for him to continue. “Lord Reed has written asking for assistance in dealing with a series of skirmishes that have grown in number between his people and the Freys.”

Daemon is silent for a moment and then asks. “Has Lord Daeron been able to capture any of the Freys or their men to question them as to why this raiding is going on now?”

Rickard looks at the letter before him and then says. “He has managed to capture one Ryman Frey Your Grace, the man said to have led the early incursions into the Neck. The boy did not speak much but says that old Lord Walder Frey knows not of what is happening north of the neck.”

Daemon nods and says. “Very well, I want a raven sent to King’s Landing asking Lord Walder call his weasels off of the neck and send some men to aid Lord Daeron.”

* * *

 

**King Aerys II Targaryen**

He was king, and by gods was it a strange feeling. He had never truly thought that he would become king, oh sure once or twice as a foolish little boy he had dreamed of what it might be like to have a crown on his head and sit the Iron Throne, but that was just a stupid childish fantasy, he had never truly thought something like that would actually happen. And then Summerhall had happened and life had changed, his cousins Aemon and Daenys had died and his father had been crowned and suddenly he was prince of Dragonstone, learning how to rule at the same time at trying to make sure that his wife did nothing to serious to damage her health or the babe’s health that she carried.

Rhaella, his elder sister, Aerys had loved her as a brother loved a sister, he had never felt anything more than that for her, and yet his grandfather had demanded that they wed to fulfil some damned prophecy that that whore and the wood’s witch had sprouted from their mouths that had so captivated his grandfather and even to some extent his own father. He knew that Rhaella had been deeply upset by the match, and that she had thought rather delude that she might be allowed to wed her knight, that prancing jack nape Ser Bonnifer Hasty, the man had never been good enough for his sister, it was not that he was from a knightly house, it was more that the man claimed to love his sister and yet Aerys had seen the man sitting more than one woman on his lap and fucking them senseless afterwards, he had heard the knight talk about it so often in the yard during practice that at one point Aerys had swung out at him and nearly beaten him bloody. He had never told Rhaella the truth of her knight though; he had not had the heart to do so.

Even so, there had been some small part of Aerys that had also dreaded wedding his sister, it was not the thought of actually wedding her that made him dread it after all they were blood of the dragon and that was what their family had done for generations, no it was the fact that he would not get the chance to wed his lovely Joanna. He had known her since she had come to court at the age of eight to become his sister’s bed companion, and he had grown to know her and become first her friend and then more than that, they had shared kisses many a time, and Joanna had hinted that perhaps she might even wish to marry him, but of course he had wed Rhaella and then Tywin had come into the picture. Tywin who had squired for his uncle Duncan, before the war for Dorne and then afterwards with uncle Maegon, had grown to know and love Joanna as well, and Aerys had seen his chance slip by, he had seen how Tywin and Joanna acted around one another and though they were not betrothed yet, Aerys knew that they would wed one another sooner rather than later and it made his heart hurt, that his lovely Joanna would wed Tywin and he would be left with the cold marriage bed that his grandfather had thought fit to give him.

When he saw Tywin and Joanna together, those were the days that he cursed his grandfather and his obsession with that damned prophecy, that prophecy had driven his grandmother to the brink of madness and had cost him his life, and Aerys any chance of happiness that he might know. Rhaella was a good sister, he loved her as that, but he mourned what he could have had with Joanna, that easy companionship and flirtatiousness that they had had before when they were younger, the feeling that he might be able to speak with her and take advice from her, that was what he missed, some of the things he wanted advice on he could not ask Rhaella about they were far to embarrassing to ask one’s sister, but not bad enough he would risk ruining the dragon’s reputation by asking Joanna.

Still he supposed that at least he was doing his duty to his house, and to the throne. Their first born Rhaegar had been born in Castle Darry after the Tragedy of Dragonsville, and Rhaella was with child once more, Aerys hoped for another son, so that perhaps the line might continue. As it was, with Aemon and Daenys dead, and the fact that his uncle Aelix had died before getting his wife with child and only had one bastard roaming the riverlands or perhaps the crownlands rumour had it, meant the royal line was shaky and Aerys did not want the throne to pass to anyone else should tragedy befall them. In fact Aerys had often wondered if Ser Dontos Waters the former master of whispers who had died during the fever that had struck King’s Landing had been a royal bastard so Valyrian had he looked, of course the man did know of his parentage, and neither did anyone else. A shame the man would have made any Valyrian proud, and would have made a true Targaryen.

Aerys sighed and ran a hand through his hair, and looked at what the council would discuss today. His small council was made up of the hand of the king Ser Tywin Lannister, a man he considered a friend and someone he was impressed with ruthless and young, master of laws Lord Jon Arryn a man with a good sense of right and wrong and young as well, master of coin Lord Walder Frey old and finicky but cunning and smart with coin, master of ships was Aerys great uncle Lord Maegon Velaryon and old dog of the sea, then there was the master of whispers Lord Horras Bolton a cunning man though one who was down with the fever, and finally there was Grand Maester Pycelle and the lord commander of his Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower. These were the men who made up his council, and these were the men who Aerys was determined would build on the peace that his father had built. As the door opened and the lords in question walked in and were seated Aerys took note of who looked tired and who looked determined. Once they were all seated, Aerys cleared his throat and spoke. “My lords I thank you for coming today. I know we have much to do individually but I thought it would be good to see what the other have done. Now what news?”

It was Tywin who spoke first, his voice carrying through the council chamber. “It would appear that there have been skirmishes in the Neck between the cranongmen and men from the Twins Your Grace. King Daemon Stark wrote to ask that Lord Walder order his boys to cease and desist.”

Aerys looks at his master of coin and sees the man’s weasel face scrunched up in concern. “Lord Walder, did you know your boys were planning to disturb the peace before you left from the Twins?”

Lord Walder sputters and then says. “No Your Grace. I promise you that I do not condone this breach of the peace. And I shall write a stern letter to Stevron demanding he end this foolishness at once.”

Aerys fights to hold back a smile and looks at Tywin before asking. “Does the letter from Stark say who it is that is leading the attacks on the cranongmen and whether or not they have any prisoners?”

 Tywin looks at the letter in front of him and then says. “Aye, it says that apparently that the Frey raiding parties are being led by Lord Walder’s own cousin Ser Gavin Frey. The cranongmen hold Ryman Frey prisoner in Greywater Watch and are willing to release him if the raiding stops.”

Aerys looks at Lord Walder and the man nods. “Aye I will head north Your Grace, and end this foolishness as soon as you wish. I will send Gavin to the Wall, that’s where such scum belong after all.”

Aerys nods and then asks. “Now what more news is there?”

Lord Horras Bolton, pale as death speaks then his voice hoarse. “There has been word from Essos. It appears that Tyrosh, Myr and Lys have entered into an alliance once more and are planning on launching an attack on Volantis. They have united under the banner of the Three Daughters once more and are attempting to gain more materials to build up a fleet that will be strong enough to challenge and perhaps damage Volantis.”

Aerys nods and then asks. “And where have they sent emissaries to, to ask for aid in building up their war fleet?”

Bolton looks at the paper before him before replying. “They have sent emissaries to Yunkai and to the north, though it appears that King Daemon Stark has decided against allowing them to leave his port and as such has kept them detained in White Harbour itself. The Yunkai though have given in and are funnelling some their resources into the three daughters.”

Aerys nods and then says. “Very well, I want you to gather more information about this potential threat before we act on it Lord Horras. And I want word sent to Volantis, I want my great uncle to know that he shall not be left alone should the fighting hurt him.”

Lord Horras nods and then says. “There has also been word from Summerhall. It appears that there is more to these bandits that have been raiding along the Red Mountains and the Marches than first met the eye. For it seems the leader of the bandits carries the sigil of the Vulture King.”

“What of it?” Tywin asks. “The Vulture King and the second pretender were both defeated long before they could ever prove a threat to the wider realm. So what if one bandit carries their banner, likely the fool thinks that by doing so he will rally the small folk to his cause. Little realising that the small folk are tired of war.”

Though he is inclined to agree with Tywin Aerys waits and sure enough his uncle Lord Maegon, who was old enough to see both the first and the second vulture kings come and go speaks. “It is an important matter not because of what the smallfolk want, but because of what the Vulture King symbolised. The man was half mad all agree, but when he started his campaigns he started them during a time of peace, and nearly overran both Dorne and the marches with his propaganda and actions, so much so it required three marcher lords to take him and his followers down. That the bandit leader carries his banner now that peace has been obtained is no coincidence no doubt the man wishes to bring more trouble to realm, now that peace has been achieved. He cannot be allowed to grow even more in power, and must be stopped immediately.”

Aerys is silent for a moment and then sighing says. “Very well, Pycelle send a raven to Summerhall; tell them to call lords Cafferen and Dayne in and to discuss what needs to be done. If they need more help they should send word as soon as possible. Horras, I want you to use some of your sources to find out who this bandit leader is and what it is he wants, and how best he can be dealt with. Now what more is there?”

Lord Walder speaks sheepishly. “Trade is flourishing, and we no longer owe any money to the Iron Bank. However, I am curious to ask what you wish to be done about the throne’s trade contracts with Lys and Myr, now that they have joined with Tyrosh into the three daughters.”

Aerys was silent for a moment, before he said. “Keep them going; unless they give the throne reason to cease trade then we have no reason to worry. It is Volantis they are aiming for not King’s Landing. Let us see what they do before we act.”


	2. King of the Kill

**Lord Gyles Stark**

Dorne had been a free and independent kingdom for seven years, and Gyles could not have felt more proud. Since coming to Dorne, he had to admit he had felt more at home in the land of his mother than in the land of his father, there had always been more chance for him here and it helped he supposed that the people of his mother’s land saw him as a hero, or someone that they thought they should befriend. Dorne had managed to repel an invasion from the Iron Throne seven years ago and now they were experiencing a time of plenty, trade was flourishing, especially with the North and with the Free Cities, Volantis and Bravos in particular. There was trade with the iron throne and those kingdoms that still did obedience to it, due to the peace treaty that Gyles’ brother and grandfather had signed and that his own uncle King Berros had signed as well, though relations were still awkward and after the years of tension between the iron throne and Drone it was only normal that the people of Dorne would be suspicious of any Westerosi that happened to come to Dorne for trade.

There had been a minor threat two years back from a pirate king who had taken it into his head that he wanted to rule Dorne, and having taken the Stepstones he had a base with which to go raiding and to cause trouble that might disturb the peace that they had all worked so hard to achieve, and so as Lord Marshal of Dorne, Gyles had mustered the Dornish Fleet docked in at Sunspear and had set sail to confront the pirate king, he had thought that perhaps the man would challenge him at sea, but no instead the fool had thought to challenge him on land. Alequo Aledo the Pirate King had been slain on Gallows Grey and his second in command, Saaro Saan thrown into the dungeons of Ghaston Grey to rot there for the rest of his days.

The people of Dorne seemed to revel in the peace that was now theirs for good it seemed, Gyles had attended more tourneys since the peace had been signed than he had ever attended or even dreamed of attending in the north. Tourneys in Wyl, Yronwood, Sandstone, Tor all over the kingdom he was invited to attend tourneys and he competed in a few of them, winning the tourneys held at Wyl and Yronwood the month past. Though he was amazed by the sheer scale of some of the tourneys that were put on in Dorne, Gyles had come to find that he did not particularly like all of the pageantry that accompanied them, and all the false posturing that some the knights, especially those newly made knights seemed to have when they competed. It made him think that should they ride in battle many of those puffed up knights would be cut down without much bother, and that bothered him.

That was why he had asked King Berros for permission to continue training the Dornish army even though they were in a time of peace for as he had said to the king, they could never be sure when a threat could emerge again, and he did not want the kingdom to fall because they were not ready to defend themselves. And so since that day he would spend some of his time out in the training yard in Sunspear training men who had come from all over the kingdom who would make up the marshal army that, they would be elite soldiers trained and living for the fight, always on the ready, and would be answerable to him, whilst he was answerable only to the king for their actions.

Of course with Westeros at peace now Gyles did not truly think that the elite force would be needed, at least not anytime soon though it was hard to know with Targaryens, as Gyles had learnt during the war to defend Dorne. Westeros was as a whole at peace with itself, Gyles brother King Daemon Stark had worked hard to make sure that the peace treaty was enforced both by those notoriously fickle Ironborn and by the northmen, and that the southerners kept their end of the bargain. Gyles knew this because he and Daemon still kept in touch through raven, and though he was happy that his brother was happy with what life had given him, he could not help but think that Daemon still missed Samaira and Jorelle, his wife and daughter who had been taken from him too soon. That was not good, and though Daemon would never formally acknowledge it not even to himself, Gyles knew that some small part of his brother resented Visenya Blackfyre for what she was and what she was not, whether the girl knew that or not Gyles knew not, but he was grateful that his brother was doing his best to make the best of the situation.

As to his own family life, Gyles could not have been happier. He deeply loved his wife and children, and was happy that he was able to get to know them as well as he could, for he had seen what had happened to his grandfather’s family in the north and he never wanted that sort of situation to happen to his own family. His son Daemon was growing every day and had seen his fourth nameday not too long ago, his daughter Mariah was going to be the perfect little lady when she grew up he just knew it, and his second daughter Lyselle would be another perfect little lady as well, Gyles thanked the gods each day for what they had seen fit to give him, he could not have been happier. He did not truly miss the north, he missed Daemon and his grandmother, but he did not miss the coldness nor the emptiness he had often felt there, at least here in Dorne he had made something more of himself rather than just being the bastard brother of Daemon Stark, the rejected grandson of the Winter Dragon, here he was something, he was something that he wanted to be.

The opening of the council chambers doors shook him out of his reverie, he stood with the rest of the council as the king and the crown prince walked in, both King Berros and Prince Edgar were physically imposing men who were quick to anger but were both very loyal and proud. Once both men were seated the king nodded for the other council members to be seated and then the king spoke. “Now my lords, what news do you have for me since we last met?”

Grand Maester Alleras spoke first. “There has been word from Lord Santagar, it appears as if Grey Gallows and Bloodstone were completely ransacked by the rebels before they fled for parts unknown. “

The king was silent for a moment. “Very well, tell him that he may return home now, he has done his duty. Has there been word from Derryck as to what the citadels are doing?”

Maester Alleras shook his head and said. “No Your Grace, no word as of yet though I think I might have a very good guess as to what it is that they are trying to achieve with the ravens they sent to the capitals of all the kingdoms.”

“Oh and what might that be?” The king asked his voice showing the growing impatience he was feeling.

Maester Alleras however seemed unperturbed by it and went on. “Winter is coming as sure as the sun sets in the night. The maesters need various things from all three of the kingdoms, that they could not get during times of war. As such they are needing these materials now and will do whatever it takes to get them. I would tread carefully with them Your Grace.”

The king nodded and then asked. “What materials would they need from Dorne though? I was not aware we provided the citadel with anything of substance beyond perhaps an joke or two about the Martells.”

The council members laughed but Maester Alleras simply stated. “Blood Your Grace. They need hot blooded men to defend themselves from the winter and to replenish their supply of men for Maesters to replace those who would die during the winter to come.”

“So you think they are aiming to recruit men from Dorne? And why would that be?” The king asked.

The maester shrugged his shoulders. “As to that I could not say Your Grace.”

The king sighed and said. “Well there’s not much I can do until I know what they require from me. Very well, let us leave that matter to the side for now. Gyles what news do you have from the Marches and from Wyl?”

Gyles took a moment to look at his notes before he spoke. “Well Lady Wyl reports that there has been no sign of movement from the Vulture King or his cronies on her part of the border for some time. Though Lord Blackmont writes that the men at Vulture’s have been seeing some strange activity as of late. Men coming and going from the stop posts dressed in black in sweltering heat, sweating and then fleeing when patrols go to question them as to their purpose. I believe that the Bandit leader is toying with us, trying to lure us into some sense of security or unease.”

“What would you suggest we do then Gyles?” The king asked.

Gyles was silent for a moment and then said. “I believe we should send scouts out to find out where exactly this Vulture King is, or if he still carries or claims to be the Vulture king come again. Once we have found out where the bastard is I say we send a small force of men to burn him and his men out and then we drag them back to Yronwood for trial and fair execution.”

“A noble suggestion my lord,” Lord  Fowler began. “But how do we know that that is not what this bandit king wants? He might wish for a party be led out by one of us, and then that is when he will fall upon us with the aid of the smallfolk if we are not careful.”

Prince Edgar spoke then. “What reason would the smallfolk have for joining this felon? We have given them peace and plenty, this man only promises to cause them trouble to succeed. Besides he is raiding the Stormlands as well. Let the Martells and the Westerosi deal with him I say.”

The king was silent and then he eventually spoke, and his voice sounded ominous. “We shall not let this bandit be he the one claiming to be the Vulture King, or some other common outlaw get away with causing trouble in Dorne. We are not the Martells that we would let the smallfolk and the lords of Dorne suffer needlessly. We have worked hard for peace, we shall work even harder to maintain it. Gyles send word to Lord Blackmont and tell him that he is to send men out to aid those at the Roost, whichever men they find from this group of bandits they are to question and then they are to go and fine the Vulture King or whoever their leader is. We shall deal with this problem and we shall deal with it quickly.”

* * *

 

**King Aerion Targaryen, King of Volantis**

Essos had become a cauldron of tension and barbed words between the various free cities. The peace that had been reached in Westeros had made it so that those on the western coast of the continent who had been heavily invested in continuing the wars over in his former home now had to come back to their own problems and face up to them. Aerion had found that many of the western free cities were now lacking in strength and morale and money, having put a lot of money on the tension in Westeros going on for much longer, and there had been times since Maelys Blackfyre’s death that Aerion had questioned sending the lad’s bastard son Rhaegon to the north, there were times when he feared that some oaf in Lys or Tyrosh would give Daemon Stark and offer he couldn’t refuse or that his wife would demand he not refuse and Westeros would be plagued by war once more.

Then there were times when he thought that sending the boy to Winterfell was perhaps one of the smartest things he had done since becoming king. For one thing it had prevented the Golden Company from trying to rally behind him once more, as they had been tempted to do he knew from the words that that fool Strickland had said to him following the company’[s retreat. Thankfully Strickland was dead and the company had moved on from Tyrosh and now served as a sort of guard for Volantis, led by Prince Jonnel Stark the black wolf as he was called. The man was a fierce fighter, Aerion had come back from the sparring yard with many a bruise form their sparring sessions, and he was an even better politician with a keen eye for where the company would be needed and where they would not be needed. It was he who had decided that they would not be needed in Westeros for some time, and that Essos would be the melting pot for their glory. His men had grumbled but had not argued, it was hard to argue with someone who had a blood big black direwolf at his side, Aerion had remembered thinking darkly.

Of course with the company operating from within Volantis, that had meant that they had become his responsibility and he was now responsible for paying them and seeing to their upkeep and whilst it was nice to have a professional group of soldiers there patrolling the streets and ensuring peace was kept in Volantis, their pay was beginning to take a toll on the crown’s finances. Aerion was beginning to think that some war in Essos would not be a bad thing, and with the way Meeren and Yunkai were bickering with one another it was like to be happening at some point soon. The slaver cities were lessening in power, there had been so many reports of slave reports coming from that region that Aerion was convinced that at least one would be successful and then he would need to consider the issue of slaves in Volantis. An issue he considered very dangerous, he needed to keep the nobility happy but he also needed to assuage his own conscience, at some point he would need to deal with that issue.

But for now he was content to stare out of the window and watch as his younger grandchildren and his two great grandchildren played out in the waterside. The sound of their splashing and yells of happiness brought a smile to his face, and helped to null some of the pain he still felt about Shiera’s death. Shiera, the woman who had brought him back from madness and made him sane, who had given him everything he had never thought to have, she had been his rock, the thing he held the most dear along with his children and their families, and now she was gone. Dead of old age, the healers said, a fever or just weakness had taken her, and there was emptiness in his heart now. Still at least their children, those who remained were doing her proud, his two remaining sons Aeron and Jaehaeron were fierce fighters and had children of their own and then there was his heir, Gaemon, a lad any man would be proud to call his grandson and heir, a smart lad with a skill for politics and a good fighter, good with a bow, mace and sword, deadly in the training yard and even more so out in the field. He would make a very good king. And that he had a son of his own by his wife, Moray Boyar, was something that made Aerion safe in the knowledge that the kingdom was secure.

 His heart ached though for the brother he had lost to tragedy and foolishness, his brother Egg had died from the fire at the tragedy of Dragonsville supposedly trying to bring dragons back. He knew things between him and his brother had always been tense, because of the fool Aerion had been as a youth and because Aegon knew how to hold a grudge, and that was one of the few things in his life that he truly regretted, the fact that whilst he had been able to make up with his sisters and with Aemon and Daeron before their deaths, he had never been able to make things right with Egg, and he was convinced such a thing would haunt him till he himself died. He sighed, well there was nothing he could do about it now, his brother was dead, his sons dead, Aerion’s great nephew Aerys sat the iron throne now, and Aerion hoped that the boy could make the peace that they had all strove for work and last for many years to come, it was in his hands now. His, Daemon Stark’s and Aerion’s though soon enough it would be in Gaemon’s hands. The sound of the door opening brought Aerion out of his reverie, and he asked for who it was and got the response. “It’s Gaemon and Jaehaeron grandfather.” His grandson Gaemon said.

“Good, come close you two have things I must speak with you of.” Aerion rasped. His son and grandson came close by and they looked so much like each other it nearly took his breath away. Taking a sip of water and then swallowing, Aerion looked back at the pools where his descendants played and said. “How goes things in court today Gaemon?”

His grandson laughed slightly and said. “The same old, same old grandfather. Maegyr wants more money for his industry, and Boyar wants more for his shops and bakeries. They squabble like little girls over a doll and do not see that the solution to their problems lies right before them.”

“And what is that solution Gaemon?” Aerion asks.

His grandson is silent for a moment before replying. “Their goals are the same, it would make more sense for them to merge together, and present their case as one single front to the throne before they consider asking for more money.”

Aerion nodded and then asked. “But will they do that?”

His grandson shook his head and then said. “No grandfather they will not. For Maegyr and Boyar have always been enemies and are too stubborn to admit that they share common goals, they will need to be guided to that conclusion and shown that their goals will not harm one another nor damage their pride.”

Jaehaeron snorted then. “Whoever can do that deserves an award and recognition as a saint and a more patient man then me.”

“That would not be hard nuncle, I could have sworn you were about to take out Boyar when he kept complaining.” Gaemon jested with his uncle.”

“All well and good, but what I want to know is has there been any more word about the three daughters and what they have been doing?” Aerion asked.

Gaemon was instantly serious once more. “Our men in the docks report that the sailors coming in from the east  are saying that the Yunkish have met the Three Daughters demand for ships and men and are sailing them round the grief as we speak, aiming to burn our ships at anchor in time for the three daughters to invade whilst we fight the Yunkishmen on ground.”

Aerion sighed. “So they have played their hand then. Very well Jaehaeron, you will lead the fleet out to deal with the Yunkishmen, burn their ships to the ground. Use wildfire if you need, to leave none of their ships to cause us trouble. And Gaemon oversee the defences of the city, it will take them time, but eventually the three daughters will come calling and we must be ready to meet them, and beat them.”


	3. Ghosts Along The Mississippi

**Ser Barristan Selmy**

Barristan the Bold he was called had been called since a tourney at Blackhaven all those years ago when he had competed against Prince Duncan the Small as a mystery knight. A scrawny lad he had been then, a scrawny lad who thought he knew what was what. Westeros had still been at war then, but eventually peace had come, it had come with the death of Maelys Blackfyre. Barristan had been given a white cloak following the war of the Ninepenny kings, and it had been the proudest day of his life, his cousin had wed the girl meant for him and he had basked in the glory that had come from slaying the two headed beast that had been Maelys Blackfyre.

Following Maelys death, the king in the North and the King on the Iron Throne had secured a peace that was now in its fourth year, a peace that had seen trade continue to flourish between the three respective kingdoms in Westeros. The Kingdom of the south ruled by the Iron Throne now ruled by King Aerys II Targaryen was prospering, winter had been threatening to come upon them for sometime but as of yet had not settled and so the peace continued and the people basked in the warmth of summer and autumn. Barristan himself as a knight of the Kingsguard observed the goings on of court with some fascination, though he did not have a head for politics himself.

Still he found it fascinating watching the nobles of the court walk around the Red Keep trying to gain the king’s royal favour or even that of the Queen’s or even that of little Prince Rhaegar. Most of the nobles were good at politics but bad at keeping their expressions neutral, as a member of the Kingsguard Barristan had seen lords and ladies alike come before the court to try and beg something from the crown, and they all often wore their emotions on their sleeves when doing so, Barristan had learnt that to get anything from King Aerys one had to be neutral in expression and use their eyes and words to win the king over, especially when the hand was present in court. For Barristan had quickly learnt that the new king was very jealous of his hand, Tywin Lannister a good and smart man who was ruthless in doing what needed to be done especially when it came to dealing with rebels as shown by his destruction of the Reynes and Tarbecks.

King Aerys was a man who lived in the shadow of his grandfather King Aegon a great man who had many flaws some of which his sworn brothers had talked about and others that Barristan had heard of from court gossip. Thoughts on Aerys inevitably drew him to the one other king he had met during his life, King Daeron Stark known was the Winter Dragon. A god of war the Winter Dragon was, a strong and proud man in his youth by all accounts, a man who was so dedicated to his brother’s cause and a vow he had made that he was led astray by it and was taken down a dark path. Barristan had heard of the battles that his sworn brothers Gwayne and Jonothor Darry had fought in previous Blackfyre wars and from what they and Ser Gerold and Prince Lewyn had told him it was a miracle the Targaryen dynasty was still on the Iron Throne.

Of course with Maelys Blackfyre’s bastard son, legitimised now by both Aerion Targaryen and Daeron Stark Rhaegon in the north everyone was on tender hooks as to whether there would be another Blackfyre war, and if there were to be one, when it would happen. Barristan knew there had been talk at court of sending an assassin or some sort of killer to deal with Rhaegon Blackfyre, an idea that completely horrified him, it went against all that knights were supposed to stand for and it went against the code of honour to which he held himself so highly too. Rhaegon Blackfyre was nothing but an innocent child, guilty of only having the last name Blackfyre, as far as Barristan was concerned the boy was not to be found guilty for the sins of his ancestors, and besides it did not seem as if King Daemon Stark was interested in using the lad as a puppet for further war, so perhaps peace could actually be achieved. As well as perhaps being the only chance for House Blackfyre to achieve something other than a warmongering reputation, and perhaps achieve something of a positive legacy once all is said and done.

Barristan shook his head and his thoughts were taken back to the battle he had just recently finished taking part in. There had been series of bandit raids on holdfasts and land near Summerhall, and though Princess Loreza Martell had sent men to find and deal with the bandits they had come up empty handed, the matter had then passed onto Lord Edric Baratheon, Lord Edric had led a party of some two hundred men out to find the bandits only to stumble across the main body of them led by someone calling himself the Vulture King, Lord Edric had died slain by the Vulture King and the man and his group of bandits had fled.

Upon learning of the death of his uncle, the king had been very angry and as such had sent word for the remaining Stormlords to gather at Storm’s End, Barristan and his fellow sworn brother Prince Lewyn had been tasked with leading the remaining force of men numbering some 4,000 strong to go and find and kill the Vulture King. They had done just that, the Vulture King was found camped at the Tower of Joy on the border between the Stormlands and Dorne, and a fierce fight had ensued between the forces under Barristan’s command the forces under the Vulture King. Barristan had cut a bloody path through the bandits to come face to face with the bandit king, and after a fierce fight, had managed to kill him. The bandits were killed, taken to King’s Landing for judgement or kept as prisoner. Barristan received an injury during the fighting and as such was still near the Tower waiting to get healed when the Dornish contingent of men led by Lord Gyles Stark had arrived.

Gyles Stark, Barristan had come to find was a good man, a great warrior deadly with either spear or sword and a defender of his people. Some of Barristan’s men had been tense about the man being here with them, and yet when ever Barristan had spoken to the man he had been nothing but pleasant and kind. “Are you dreaming again Selmy?” Gyles Stark’s voice caused Barristan to jump.

“No my lord, no I was just thinking is all.” Barristan replied.

Gyles Stark smiles then and says. “It’s alright Ser; I won’t report you to Prince Derryck don’t worry. Now how are you doing? Is your chest feeling better?”

Barristan nods and replies. “Aye it is my lord, much better the maester says I should be good to ride out in a few days time. And what of yourself my lord? How do you and your men fare?”

Lord Gyles smiles again, and says. “Oh we’re doing just fine. You lot took great care of the bandits, hardly left any for us to deal with. Only a few stragglers and the Vulture King’s second in command were left for us to deal with and question. Though I do wish you had left the Vulture King alive Ser, there were some choice questions I had for him.”

“I had orders my lord. I was not to leave the Vulture King alive. I am sorry if that disturbed your plans in anyway.” Barristan says apologetically.

Gyles Stark laughs then and says. “I was only teasing you Ser Barristan. You need not take everything I say so seriously, otherwise you will forget what it is to smile and laugh, dressed in white like some sort of virgin and standing so stock still. You must remember how to laugh and smile Ser, otherwise you are like to become as dour as your lord commander.”

“Ser Gerold is a good man my lord. A good man a good fighter.” Barristan says defensively, the lord commander of the Kingsguard had been sent by Aerys to come and help Barristan once Prince Lewyn had returned back to King’s Landing.

“I am sure he is Ser, now when shall you and your men be leaving these lands and returning to that swamp you call King’s Landing?” Gyles asks the seriousness gone from his voice.

Barristan schools his face into a neutral mask and replies. “Soon enough I should think my lord. And what of you and your men, when shall you be returning to Dorne?”

Lord Gyles smiles then and says. “Soon enough Ser, when we are confident that there are no threats to our homes.” With that the man gets up and leaves.

A few moments later Barristan is joined by Ser Gerold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, is a big and bulky man known was the White Bull for his strength and size. A great swordsman, the Lord Commander is not all that much of a tactician though he has something Barristan does not have, street smarts. “What did he want with you Barristan?” Ser Gerold asks.

Barristan is silent for a moment before he replies. “He was merely asking how I was feeling that is all Ser. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Ser Gerold snorts. “I will believe that of a Dornishman, when dragons return to the seven kingdoms. No he wanted something from you, what more did he ask you? He would not have looked so serious if he had just asked you how you were.”

Barristan is silent for a moment and then he replies. “He wanted to know how long we would be here for. I said we would be leaving soon enough. I did not give him a direct answer Ser, I do not know myself.”

“Good, you cannot to be too careful with what you say around these vipers Barristan. We might be at peace now, but sooner or later something will happen that will prompt us all back into war, and it will be better if the enemy knows as little about you as possible, do you understand me?” Ser Gerold states.

“You think we will be going to war sometime soon?” Barristan asks amazed.

Ser Gerold looks at him and says. “I do not think so, I know so. We serve the Targaryens Barristan, and though were are sworn to keep the king’s secrets, we are also brothers now. Know this, this peace, this will not last. Aerys Targaryen will make sure it does not, the King is smart, but he is prideful. Regardless we did not have this conversation. But at some point we shall all need to meet, all seven of us, you, myself, Gwayne, Lewyn, Jonothor, Harold and Mors.”

Barristan nods and then asks. “When shall we be leaving for King’s Landing then Ser?”

Ser Gerold looks at him then and says “Later today, best get some rest now Barristan. It will be a long road back to King’s Landing.”

* * *

 

**Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch Viserys Blackfyre**

Viserys Blackfyre the 993rd Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch sat in his solar in castle black and brooded. Viserys was the third born son of Aemon Blackfyre and Barbrey Stark, born on the fifth day of ninth month of the 212th year After Aegon the Dragon’s Landing. Growing up he had always been somewhat overshadowed by his older brothers, the ones who had been more exemplary as to what a true Blackfyre should be for both his father and uncle. His father had called him a weakling, a book worm who would not stand a chance of survival outside Winterfell, and Daeron Stark had paid him little to no attention. His brother Aegon had said the same as well, but then again his brother had always been a hot head, and likely still had bastards all over the place.

Viserys had always been more bookish than his father or brother had ever been, preferring stories of battle and warfare than actually partaking in them, and preferring learning about people than killing them. His mother Barbrey had seen that and appreciated it, she had encouraged him to learn more about his heritage and when he had learnt what he could about everything there was about the north and the dragonlords she would test him and they would have discussions late into the night about the various topics that pertained to his readings. His mother had died though, when he was twelve from a chill or a fever or a broken heart and Viserys had been left to his own devices.

He had joined the Night’s Watch along with his uncle Daemon when he was twenty one after fighting in the war that took his brother and his cousin away from the world, he had seen the signs of Daeron Stark’s madness begin to creep in and he wanted no part of whatever that madness would bring. He had taken the black along with his uncle and that had been that, he had cut off ties with his family in Winterfell and across the sea and had dedicated himself to the Night’s Watch, no women, no children and no land. He had been assigned as a steward to Lord Commander Flint, a brave man and a old man veteran of a hundred battles and a strong and noble commander. When Flint had died, Ser Malcolm Royce had become Lord Commander and had done his bit to see the Watch maintained as well as he possibly could what with Winterfell busy in the South, the one good thing Viserys would admit that came from the wars that had ravaged Westeros were the increasing number of highborn prisoners that joined the Black. They had done much to increase the standing of the watch and had given it more voice.

When Lord Commander Royce had died, Viserys’ sworn brothers had made him Lord Commander that had been ten years ago now, and not a day went by that he did not thank his stars that he had taken the Black. Being Lord Commander meant that the things he had thought the watch should have done to improve could be done, the men followed him without question and whatever grumblings there were, were often short-lived as the castles along the wall became more inhabitable. Castle Black, the Shadow Tower, Eastwatch, Greyguard, Long Barrow and Oakenshield were all currently manned; the watch stood at 5,000 men half of noble birth and half of common birth.

These numbers had been very useful in dealing with the wildlings raids that had growing more frequent in the years preceding the ascension of Daemon Stark as king in the north. The rangers reported things from beyond the wall that made Viserys very uneasy, stirrings of the clans in the Bay of Seals and other things that had not been seen beyond the wall for thousands of years, and the clans seemed to be getting together for some sort of assault, one wildling they had captured named Thunderfist had told them that some chief known as the Weeper had taken control of the bay wildlings and was preparing for the biggest assault the wall had ever seen. Viserys had sent rangers out when he had learnt that and his men had not come back, not yet anyway.

Something was most definitely afoot, but there was little he could do until he knew more. Another party had been sent out to find the first party, and for now Viserys found his thoughts turning back to his family. He and his niece Alysanne were the only trueborn descendants of Daemon Blackfyre left. He kept in contact with his niece through raven, he had been there for her formative years even if she did not remember him, and through these ravens he had come to see his niece as a good woman, a strong woman who did what she could to make her husband’s life a lot easier, Edrick Cassel was a very lucky man. As for the other Blackfyre left in the world, Rhaegon Blackfyre his great nephew, Viserys was not sure what to make of the boy. For that was what he was, his niece’s letters reported from her visits that the boy was growing bigger every year, he had just turned six, and was big for his age. The boy was innocent of the crimes that their family had committed, but he would also face a greater burden then any of them had ever had to face before. Rhaegon Blackfyre would have to deal with nearly sixty years of wars and grief throughout his whole life and he would have to make sure that he did what he could to make sure House Blackfyre not only continued but also lost its reputation as a warmongering and death bringing house amongst the northmen and the rest of Westeros.

For Viserys knew what Daemon Stark was, the man was too much like his grandfather, from the rare visits Viserys had made after taking the black, he knew Daemon Stark to be a stubborn and prideful man, who was smart, much smarter than anyone gave him credit for, and the man would never forgive Viserys family for what they had done to his. Daemon Stark was also planning something for the lands beyond the wall, Viserys was convinced of it, if his constant requests for maps and information about things beyond the wall were any indication, whatever it was Viserys hoped it did not conflict with what the watch stood for.

A knock on his door took him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he said.

The door opens and his steward Lewyn Locke walks in and says. “The ambassadors from Volantis are here my lord.”

“Send them in.” Viserys says, Lewyn nods and then opens the door and in walk the ambassadors from Volantis. Borros Waters, Moroqo Boyar and Vlad Maegyr, sent from King Aerion Targaryen the fire king to discuss certain conditions with regards to sending more men and funding more expansion on the castles. “My lords,” Viserys says. “I trust you had a comfortable and safe journey from Volantis to Eastwatch and from Eastwatch to here.”

“It was indeed comfortable my lord.” Waters says. “As to comfortable well...”

 Viserys smiles but takes note of Waters, _that one will be hard pressed to see sense or part with his gold._ “Well then, it would be best if we go straight to the point then would it not,” he says. “I have spend much time corresponding with King Aerion, following the news that Volantis and the three daughters went to war and that Volantis won. I know that your king has a surplus of prisoners from the war, prisoners that he knows not what to do with. I know your king does not wish to sell them into slavery when he is trying to reduce the dependency on slavery. I believe I have come up with the best solution for him. Send your prisoners and any nobles or thieves you have in Volantis here, to the wall and they can help protect Westeros from the wildlings and whatever else might be out there.”

There was silence for a long time and then Waters spoke. “And why should the king send his prisoners on a thousand mile journey from Volantis to Eastwatch when he could very well sell them off somewhere else and make more for less?”

“Because Your King does not want to do that. Because Your King was a Westerosi just as you are Lord Waters and because your king and myself are kin, and I don’t know about you, but in my family I was always told we stick together.” Viserys replies.

Maegyr speaks then his voice sultry. “And what of the loan you have asked the King for? How do you propose on paying that off?”

Viserys is silent for a moment before he says. “In exchange for the loan, I have promised his grace that the Night’s Watch will always welcome him for a visit and that his gold shall be repaid through the trade we do with the wildlings north of the wall and through the trade we do with the people of Mole’s Town and the north.”

“And what of these wildlings that we hear are raiding in the north, and crossing past the wall and the watch. Those sworn to defending the realm from these kinds of threats. How can you guarantee successful trade with them and the north if you are at war?” Boyar asks.

Viserys smiles wanly and asks. “Who said anything of war my lord? We are merely talking about a loan to rebuild the castles along the wall that would do us well for trade and to properly defend the wall.”

“The fact that you have asked for such a large amount of money for the loan suggests that you are preparing for a war Lord Viserys, even if it is to rebuild the castles.” Boyar says.

Viserys smiles and says. “Well, the wildlings have been getting more active recently, and that is why I have decided to refurbish more of the castles along the wall to make sure that they do not come anywhere near to the wall or stand a chance of breaching the wall should war come. Now, as to keeping the trade going and having our coffers filled, our coffers are at a sufficient rate to pay off the first instalment of the loan right now should you wish to go through with it my lords.”

Viserys smiles as the three ambassadors put their heads together and begin whispering amongst themselves, and when Boyar speaks he smiles even more. “Very well then my lord. Let us get these contracts signed and we will accept the first payment of the loan right now.”

Once the contract is signed and the lords have been shown out of his solar, Viserys asks for Lewyn to get his uncle Daemon and to get Lord Steward Devon Marsh. When both men are present in his solar he sits them down and says. “The Volanteene ambassadors have agreed to the loan. Devon I want you to make sure that the gold for the first repayment is given to them before they leave for Eastwatch in two days time. Now, as for what I truly called you here for, what news has there been on the wildling activity?”

His uncle speaks then. “There has my lord, it appears that what Thunderfist was saying is true. Domeric, Llewyn, Lonnel and Donnel’s bodies appeared on the other side of the wall near the gate this morning. They bare the marks of the Weeper on their bodies, and appear to have had body parts missing.”

“So what does this mean then? Does it mean that war will be coming to the wall? Has there been any news from Donnor?” Viserys asks, enquiring about the ranging party led by the first ranger Donnor Glover.

His uncle answers him. “No my lord nothing as of yet. But I would advise you to prepare for the worst. If this is any indication, the wildlings will descend upon the wall any day now, and we must not let them cross.”

Viserys nods and says grimly. “Very well, tell Olyvar to send out the ravens. Uncle I want you to write one to Winterfell. The King must know.”


	4. Noradeamus

**Lord Borros Reyne**

Sometimes he’s amazed by just how cold winter in the north truly is, having grown up in the Westerlands even when winter hit, it was still reasonably warm and the snows did not fall as deep. Even though he has lived in the north for thirteen years now he is still surprised sometimes by just how different the place is from the rest of Westeros. He had been wed to a northerner, Erena Glover for eleven of those thirteen years, and whilst his wife was a good lady and a good wife in that she had borne him four children during that time period, Borros did not truly feel any connection with her. He had only know how to fight and anger and passion were his two main things in life, he cared for his children, without a doubt he cared for them, but he could not understand his wife and her ways, nor did he truly want to try. So long as she did not cheat on him he was happy for her to do whatever she wanted.

The northerners themselves had finally warmed up to him, at first they head viewed him as some sort of spy sent north by the Targaryens to give away the weaknesses of the north, and that he was only kept alive because Daeron Stark was mad enough to keep him alive. What they believed was mostly true, he was no spy, but that he still lived to breathe was because of Daeron Stark’s fierce presence in the north and the fact that he had legitimised Borros as a Reyne had shown the northerners that he was trusted by the king. The new king, Daemon Stark had told him two years after he had arrived after the Lannister bitch had died that, “You need to wed a northerner and soon, or I will not be held accountable for what my people do to you.” Even then Daemon Stark had been a scary man, Borros had heard rumours about the king, that he made sacrifices to the old gods and that he burned septons and septas and ordered the sacking of septs.

That he was given lands and a castle on Long Lake, the site where Willam Stark had been slain showed the northmen just how much respect the winter dragon had held for him and for his grandfather, when he had been given the castle it had been Daemon Stark once more who had given it to him leaving him with the words. “Rule well, we northerners are not idiots like the southerners you left behind Reyne. Treat them wrong and they will remember and make you lives to rue it.” And so Borros had taken control over Long Lake castle and its lands, and had done his best to be a good lord and to make sure his vassals liked him and that he cared for them. So far he would have liked to thing that he had done a good job. Certainly the nobles sworn to him had had no reason to complain, and when the wildling raiders had come calling he had beaten them back and killed their leaders.

When news had come on ravens wings of the destruction of his cousin and his family, Borros had been torn between rage and unending grief. The Lannisters had been growing weaker by the decade their little succession crisis had completely derailed what power they had held, and Tytos Lannister was by all accounts a weakling and a coward, giving too much and not expecting enough. Borros’ cousin the red lion Lord Malcolm Reyne had rebelled alongside Elyn Tarbeck and together they had gotten enough of the minor houses to cause troubles with the Lannisters. Yet that lion cub, Tywin Lannister and his brothers had marched and beaten back Borros’ cousin and then taken Castamere and completely destroyed it, the roof it was said had been brought down around Borros’; cousin and grandmother as the rest of the family was hung or executed before them.  A song had been made of the death of his house, Borros had heard, though he had not heard the song, he knew it was called the Rains of Castamere and that Tywin Lannister the brat who had brought the death and destruction to his house used it as a sign of Lannister Strength. Once he had come out of his grief and sorrow, Borros had sworn before the old gods and the new that he would exact a blood vengeance on the Lannisters, he would make them rue the day that they had thought to end his family, even if it took him his own life to do it he would do it, and at the end of the day, House Lannister would be no more.

Of course that was a problem, as King Daemon was noticeably anti south and was rumoured never to discuss the south in council meetings, and seemed to barely contain his rage at his wife’s consistent contact with the south. He knew that he would never get the justice and the revenge that he so desired so long as King Daemon remained king, but of course none would think to remove the king from his seat of power, for King Daemon was fiercely loved by all and sundry and was so feared in the north it was said that mad man Edwyle Stark had lived in fear of him as well. And so Borros had come to court, hoping to seek an audience with the Queen instead to make her lean more towards him, due to her own sympathetic leanings for what she thought was her birthright.

The northern court was not as frivolous as the southern court Borros had heard his cousin describe. Where in the south, the lords and ladies wore elaborate clothes, in the north they wore practical gear, and most of the lords bore steel, and of course all seemed to live in awe of the king as he was seated on his throne, passing judgement on the cases that came before him. The queen sat next to him on a smaller throne, looking like something out of a song, they both did with their valyrian looks, though Borros had heard rumours that not all was well between them. The royal couple had five children, two girls Princesses Daenaera and Delena who were four and three respectively and three sons, Aemon, Barthogan and Cregan who were two and one years old. It seemed that the King merely used the queen as a brood mare and did nothing to share her confidences or bring her into his. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

Eventually court came to an end, and Theo Norrey of the Winter’s Guard found him and led him to the king’s solar, where both the king and the queen were sat waiting in silence for him. He bowed before them both before sitting down, and once he was sat, the King spoke. “So my lord, you have asked for a audience with myself and the queen. And I have granted it, now say what you wish to say and say it quickly.”

Borros swallowed and then said. “Your Graces, as you know my family was brutally murdered by the Lannisters four years ago, and as such there has been no justice for them. I wish with your approval to set sail and to bring my family to justice and to avenge the wrongs done to them and to mine own family by the Lannisters.”

The king spoke then. “And pray tell me Lord Borros, what injustice have the Lannisters inflicted upon your own family. House Reyne of Long Lake?”

Borros swallowed and then said. “They desecrated my ancestral home, they took what was not theirs to take and they did not give my family just cause for their actions. As the remaining Reyne, it is my sworn duty to avenge my family Your Grace”

“Sworn duty you say?” The king asks. “Pray tell, do you think you are still in the south Lord Borros? You have asked once before for justice, and I have told you what you ask for is not justice it is revenge. You are a lord of the north now, you are sworn to me, do not make me question your loyalty.”

Borros bristles then. “My loyalty needs not be questioned Your Grace. I will always a call to arms from Winterfell, and I will serve you in whatever capacity you need me to. But all I ask is for this one small boon. Grant me leave to bring House Lannister to justice and you shall never regret me doing so.”

The king gives him a cold look then and asks him. “Why, do you plan on starting another war? Do you think the child who plays with my own children will be used to bring the north into another southern war? No, he shall not and you shall not head south to bring destruction to any house, let alone the Lannisters. Do you lack any shred of common sense Reyne? I send you south, you try and destroy the Lannisters, you won’t just be attacking the Lannisters, you’ll be attacking the throne. And I will not have another war knocking on my people’[s door when we have worked so hard to bring peace to this realm. My answer remains the same no, you stay where you are, and if you try anything funny, I will kill you myself for the traitor you will be.”

Borros knows that perhaps he should keep his mouth shut and accept the way out given to him by the king, but he cannot help himself. “So what? You’ll just let the people who murdered my family off the hook, and not give them the justice they deserve? You’ll let the family who were allies with your family for generations, just die without any justice? You’ll let the people who were responsible for your father’s death get away with it all? Why because you’re too scared to fight another war. You’re grandfather would not have been afraid, he would have welcomed it.”

He knows he’s crossed the line when the king stands up then, his face taut as a bowstring, his direwolf Mars snarling. “My grandfather waged war and the kingdom bled, I will not have my people bleed over some shithole of land in the south, no matter who it belonged to. You are a loyal bannerman, so I shall let what you said slide for now. But you might wish to leave now. The both of you leave, or I will have you thrown out.”

Borros stands up and bows, and leads the Queen out of the room. When the door slams shut behind them, the queen stands on her tiptoes and whispers in his ear. “My husband might not realise what an opportunity we have here my lord, but I do. You can rest assured that I am already working on getting our rightful places in the world restored to us. Patience is all that we need now for the plans to fully succeed. We must make sure we have all of our cards and that we are so powerful nothing but a fluke of the gods will be able to stop us. So be patient my lion, and soon enough you shall have your justice. We both shall.”

* * *

 

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport and Hand of the king stared out at the scene below him, King’s Landing was awake and bustling even at this early hour, even in winter the place buzzed with activity, the shouts of merchants on the harbour and vendors selling wears. This was what he was born to do, rule the Rock and play the game of thrones, and plays it well. He was the second most powerful man in the kingdom, and he knew that he practically ran the kingdom anyway, Aerys for all that he was a smart and charming man was incredibly lazy when it came down to the actual nitty gritty of running the kingdom, preferring to leave the finer details of the kingdom to Tywin. Therefore, Tywin did think that perhaps he was right in thinking that much of the peace that they had had since the peace treaty had been signed was down more to his behind the scenes work than any of Aerys postulating.

Of course the gods had seen fit to bring him a sharp reminder that he was a human just like all else. His father and his weaknesses had been an embarrassing thing to grow up to as a child. Tytos Lannister had been a weak and feeble man, who had been born to please and not to rule, the man gave away gold as if it was water and never thought to ask for the gold back, he gave away other things that could have been used as leverage over their bannermen and never thought to call them back in. At court, Tywin had grown up hearing about cowed and bent lions, and all the laughter that had followed his father’s name and actions had culminated in the death of Tywin’s mother and the accepting of the whore that his father had been bedding as the mistress of the Rock.

The whore had thought to impose herself on Tywin and his family, ordering them about as if they were nothing more than servants, and she had treated the people who had helped his mother run the rock for nearly twenty years like they were nothing more than filth. Tywin had protested about her presence in the Rock to his father and had been brushed aside, and told that his father loved the woman and that she could do no wrong in his eyes. The whore had been stealing from the Rock, pocketing jewels and other finery and either wearing them herself or selling them in the streets of Lannisport for more gold and jewellery which his fool of a father paid for, not realising that he was being conned out his own money.  The whore had tried to do something similar to him when his father had died and his body was still lying in the sept, she had sneaked into his chambers, when Joanna had been out with Genna and her children, and had tried to get into his pants, he had taken her by the arm and led her from the castle where he had ordered the guards to strip her naked, tie her with a chain and then had her flogged for her insolence, after that he had sent her to walk through the streets of Lannisport naked telling everyone what she was.

She had never returned to Lannisport after that. That was just one of the things, Tywin had done to reinstate the fear that people had of the Lannister name. The first part had been dealing with those foolish Reynes and Tarbecks who had thought to challenge the might of the Rock. Malcolm Reyne and Elyn Tarbeck had joined together in alliance and with them had gone several lesser houses, Vikary, Sarsfield, Greenfield, Clifton, Yew and Algood. All those houses were extinct now, their members slain in battle or when their castles were stormed and their gold and resources taken and their members put to the sword. Tywin had left no man, woman of child alive, he did not want anyone coming for revenge. It was a shame that Borros Reyne had fled north before the peace, Tywin would have liked to have made sure that there were no lose ends, no matter sooner or later Reyne would make a mistake or a slip up and Tywin would end his family just as he had the Red Lion’s.

The only good things to come from his father’s weakness he supposed was that he ahd been allowed to marry the love of his life, Joanna Lannister, his first cousin. They had grown up together at court, two lions amongst dragons and had learnt to depend on one another and they had used that to their advantage on many occasions. Joanna was the cunning behind many of the plots Tywin had engineered, and she fulfilled everything he could want in a wife, she was smart, cunning and dutiful though not as boringly so as those other hens that his father had tried to get him to consider. They had been betrothed for many years before they had finally wed, on the thirtieth day of the fourth month of the 265th year after Aegon’s Landing they had wed, and their twins Jaime and Cersei had been born on the fifth day of the first month of the 266th year after Aegon’s Landing, a year ago three moons ago. Tywin had been there for the births and for the celebrations and he had never felt prouder, he was a father now, and his dynasty was secure. He would raise his son to be the finest knight and lord of the rock since Loren Lannister himself, and his daughter would one day be Queen over the south, and he would be grandfather to the future king. A dynasty would be built on that foundation that would rule for thousands of years. That is if Aerys had any sense in that head of his.

Snapping out of his reverie Tywin nodded at Ser Gwayne Gaunt and Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard who were stationed at the door, he entered the small council chamber and saw that the other members of the council were all present. Master of Ships Lord Maegon Velaryon an old man past his prime, master of coin Lord Walder Frey another old man coming to the end of his prime, master of Whispers Lord Horras Bolton soon to have a death wish upon him, master of laws Lord Jon Arryn a good man a good ally to have, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower a good man and honourable and finally Grand Maester Pycelle a toady. The king was once more absent. Tywin bid the men sit and once he was seated spoke. “Is his grace ill Maester Pycelle?”

“His Grace is down with a fever my lord hand. He asked that council continue as usual without his presence.” Pycelle said.

Tywin nodded and said. “Very well then, what is the order of business for today then my lords, what has happened since we last met?”

Walder Frey speaks then his voice waspish. “There has been word from Harrenhal Lord Whent has asked for another loan from the crown, he claims that his crops and other sources of income are not doing enough to fuel his coffers.”

“What does Lord Whent intend to use this loan he asks the crown for? His lands are some of the most fertile pieces of land in the riverlands and perhaps in the whole of the southern kingdom. What more could he want?” Tywin asks sharply.

Walder Frey laughs then. “Damned if I know my lord. The man plays his cards close to his chest and speaks not a word of what he wants to do nor what he wishes to do with the money he makes from the lands he has, though he says that with the money the crown gives him he will make something the king will not regret.”

“Tell him the crown will need a detailed plan of what he wants before we shall give him a loan. I will not have the king played for a fool by an ambitious lord. Now what more is there for us to discuss?” Tywin states.

Lord Maegon speaks then. “There has been some commotion down on the docks as of late my lord hand. It appears that the sailors from our own shores are running into conflict with the sailors coming from Volantis. This is becoming quite a common occurrence and my men are not happy with it, they wish to know what to do.”

Tywin sighs and says. “What sort of conflicts do your men report having with the men from Volantis my lord, and who are the ones starting the conflicts?”

Lord Maegon swallows and says. “There have been several arguments which have gotten physical between Westerosi sailors and Volanteene sailors, as well as arguments over various mundane things that the Volanteene have taken offense from. But more often than not it is the Volanteene sailors that cause the problems.”

“Well tell your men to think before they speak, the Volanteene are our guests here for the time being and they are being led by the king’s own cousin Prince Jaehaeron, we cannot afford for relations to sour. And speak with Prince Jaehaeron and have this issue resolved before the king returns to council.” Tywin says. “Now what more is there to discuss?”

Lord Horras Bolton spoke then his voice barely louder than a whisper. “There has been news from my sources in Essos, it appears the Three Daughters have gone to war with one another once more and the Golden Company has stirred from Volantis and is moving to join in on the fighting and take home some of the spoils. Whether or not this fighting will spill into trade remains to be seen, but I have asked for an ear to be kept to the ground nonetheless. There has also been word from Dorne, it appears Nymeria Allyrion, has been sewing Sun and Spear banners in secret.”

“What do you mean by that Lord Horras? I was never very good with riddles.” Lord Maegon asks.

“What I mean my lord, is that the Martell cause is not yet dead and buried in Dorne. There are those who still wish for the Martells to return, those who have grown tired of the Yronwoods and their posturing about change, and those who wish to see Gyles Stark fall and die. The Allyrions, the Santagars even Gyles Stark’s own goodfather plots for the Martells return.” Lord Horras replies.

“So is this a sign then that there could be support for another invasion attempt then?” Lord Jon asks. “For if it is then the king will want to know as will the Martells.”

Tywin speaks then the voice of caution. “We must test the waters first my lords. Horras I want you to have your men in Dorne test the waters, see what the mood amongst these lords is, and see whether certain allies of the Yronwoods can be turned against them. If so then we speak with the king not beforehand.”

“And if it proves that there is enough support for the Martells my lord hand, what then?” Lord Horras asks.

Tywin looks at the man and says ominously. “Then we shall go to war and we shall take back Dorne.”


	5. Resist and Bite

**Prince Jonnel Stark**

The warrior wolf that was what he was called, that was what he had been called since he had turned up at Lys as a sixteen year old fresh off the boat from White Harbour. He had turned up at the second sons camp with his direwolf Thunder and had signed his name into the membership book. Sixteen and full of anger that was what he had been then, he had watched his older brothers die for a cause they did not believe in, and he had seen his mother and father fight and fight until he could not take it anymore. He had left Westeros two moons after the death of Aegor and Brandon and he had not looked back since. He had not wanted to be there to see his father slide into madness, he did not want to stand there helplessly as his father killed the people he loved and cared about and so he had left.

He had fought so many wars for the Second Sons, twenty if he remembered correctly that they were all starting to blur together now, he had been twenty five when he had been approached by Haegon Blackfyre, visiting Tyrosh on leave from the second sons. Haegon had learnt of his skills with a sword and as a strategist and had asked him to join the company there and then. Jonnel knew what the Golden Company represented and what it stood for, and though he did not want to fight for some damn chair he agreed, mainly because the competition in the Second Sons had ended when their captain Serro Maegyr had died from a fever. He was fifty three now and had been a member of the company for nearly half his life. He had shot up through the ranks until after Haegon had died in war and Maelys had died as well he had been named captain general. A position he was honoured to have, with all its headaches.

Some of his commanders had wanted to continue fighting on in Westeros under Maelys’ bastard’s name, but Jonnel had seen nothing but pain and sorrow down that end and as such had advised King Aerion to send the babe away to Winterfell, where Jonnel’s nephew would take care of him, and was by all accounts taking care of him. With there being peace in Westeros and no war likely to happen there, Jonnel had decided to keep the company in Volantis on a semi permanent basis. Sure they had branched out to deal with the slaver alliance a few years back but other than that they had not really left Volantis until recently.

The cities of Myr, Lys and Tyrosh had joined together once more under the moniker of the three daughters and had been plotting war on Volantis. They had moved quickly to secure alliances with Yunkai and Astapor and even Qohor and Lorath. They had moved down from their plains, and the city of Volantis had gone to war. Jonnel had been relieved when war was declared; for he had feared that his men were growing lax would have forgotten how to fight. As it was that was not the case, the three daughters might have brought men into fight for them, and they might have enticed the other sellsword companies within the area to fight for them, but they would never match the dedication and skill of the company and the brilliant mind that was Prince Gaemon.

Five moons the war had lasted, Qohor and Lorath had realised defeat was inevitable for the three daughters after Yunkai’s fleet was burnt to dust on the sea, and so they joined their strength to Volantis and on the battle of the plains, the ruling triarchy of the three daughters was slain by Jonnel and the three daughters ended its alliance once more. With the threat dealt with they had spent some time counting their losses and dealing with other matters. Eventually King Aerion had asked Jonnel what he wanted as payment for the services he had rendered to him, Jonnel had thought for a moment and then asked for Tyrosh. Stating that with Tyrosh the Golden Company would be out of Volantis and out the king’s hair, and that they could use Tyrosh as a permanent basis. The king had been silent for a moment and then asked him if he wished for anything more from Tyrosh, a moment silence and then Jonnel had asked for the lordship of the city to be given to him. The king had been silent and then had agreed to it, on the condition that Tyrosh do obedience to Volantis and aid them in any further wars they might need to engage in. With the old aristocracy of Tyrosh dead, Jonnel had agreed and he and his wife Mariah and their children Barthogan, Rodrik and Lyarra moved into the former manse of the Archon of Tyrosh and the commanders of the company were given positions of power within the city.

A lord of his own city, and a rich one at that, trading with Myr and Lys two cities that were set up to become allies and potential conquests in the future, as well as with Bravos and Volantis. Westeros traded with them as well, from the southern kingdom they traded wine, spice and other such things, and from Dorne, spice once more and gossip, from the north Jonnel met with his sister Lyanna and brother Jorah and learnt more about the family he had left behind. Jonnel had never felt close to his siblings growing up apart from Jorah and Lyanna and as such seeing them again after so much time was a joy for him, he learnt that his nephew Daemon had nine children with his wife Visenya Blackfyre, they were named Daenaera, Delena, Aemon, Barthogan, Cregan, Lyarra, Rickon, Dacey and Rodrik respectively. And though Jonnel cringed at the continued use of the Valyrian names he had to admit his nephew had certainly not shirked on his duty. Jonnel also learnt from Jorah that his nephew was planning a campaign of some sort though what it was he knew not, though Jonnel had sent a scout with Jorah when he had returned to the north to find out more, if they could benefit from his nephew’s thoughts then he would most definitely think about taking the company north.

That was why he had called a meeting of his commanders as well as his sons Barthogan and Rodrik to speak to them about moving the operations north to Winterfell and taking some more of the gold home. His commanders were sat in the solar, Ser Arthur Toyne the lord marshal of troops a good commander if somewhat slow on the uptake, Ser Simon Strickland the paymaster cunning and shrewd, Ser Lomas Peake the last Peake or so he liked to say and of course the spymaster Laenor Bittersteel the son of the famed Daemon Bittersteel. “Good sers,” Jonnel began. “My aunt and uncle were here as you well know, and they had some very interesting information to tell me. It appears that my nephew King Daemon Stark, King of the North and Iron Islands is planning a campaign of some sort, a campaign that could very well fill our coffers.”

Silence and then Ser Arthur asks. “How so? What sort of campaign is your nephew planning my lord? And how could it get us the gold we need to refill our coffers from what we’ve had to spend?”

“Ser Arthur Toyne asking about the company’s coffers and contracts. My I never thought I’d see the day. Have you been replaced with someone who is not a primitive Ser?” Ser Lomas joked.

The other men in the tent joked and even Toyne laughed. Jonnel cleared his throat and said. “I am not exactly one hundred percent sure what it is that my nephew is planning, but I gave a letter to my brother to give to him when he next saw him expressing a desire to have further information and perhaps to go into an agreement that could be mutually beneficial to the both of us.”

“And what sort of terms do you think to get from King Daemon my lord?” Ser Simon asks. “Forgive me, but northmen are notoriously prickly when it comes to their pride and honour, and they tend not to wish to deal with Sellsword companies, at least that is what I got from the King last time we all met.”

Jonnel sighs and says. “I know my nephew was hard on you lot, but there was a war that needed to be won, and it wasn’t won. That is in the past now though, my nephew is a man grown and a king, he will do what is best for his people and his kingdom and if he wants this campaign to go smoothly he will follow up on my offer.”

“And yet we still don’t know what you offered him my lord.” Strickland points out. “Can you not see how that might be a bit of a problem for us?”

Jonnel smiles then and says. “I offered him our services in return for payment of 900,000 gold dragons for the company to divide plus whatever spoils we get from the campaign he is planning. I also said that the majority of the spoils would go as bonus to the commanding officers. In return my nephew gets the skill of the company and the elephants and possible other resources we could bring him.”

Laenor speaks then his voice soft. “A good proposition my lord and one that certainly benefits us, but how do we know King Daemon will go for it? He is king of the north and so is not likely to want to look at the south even if his wife is a Blackfyre and his nephew is one as well. The man hates the south with a greater passion then Aegon the Unworthy loved women. Most likely he will be looking to take land beyond the wall, to prevent the wildings from constantly harassing his land and people. Why should he agree to have the company come fight for him for the amount you asked for when he can have his own lords and men fight for him for free?”

Jonnel smiles slyly then and says. “You forget Ser, that when I went travelling around during my time away from the company I went north of the wall for some time, and I learnt things, things that my nephew will want to know, will need to know if he wants to stand a chance of succeeding in bringing the wildlings to heel and dealing with the crows that will undoubtedly come cawing at him the minute he declares his intentions. I have that, and he has the money, he will pay for it. And we shall do what we always do and win.”

* * *

 

**Lord Gyles Stark**

Winter had been short, it had lasted but four  years and truly it had not really been all to present in Dorne. There had been no snows, no rain, no anything. The only sign that winter was truly present was the dip in temperature and the changing of clothes that people wore, in that they actually wore some clothes. Gyles of course made sure his wife wore none when they were alone together but that was beside the point. Winter had come and gone and now in the 269th year after Aegon’s Landing, spring was here and with it came a new sense of joy and pride in Dorne, trade was booming the royal coffers were over filling with coin and peace and plenty roamed the streets of Yronwood and Sunspear. The Vulture King had been dealt a tough blow and had been killed by a Selmy, and the bandits had been dealt with one by one until there was nothing left of them. None had thought to cause problems in Drone since then and if he was honest Gyles was quite glad of that for he did truly hate leaving his family.

His children were growing up so quickly as well, Daemon had turned twelve just two moons past and was growing to be more and more like his namesake every day, shrewd and practical even at such a young age, Gyles saw so much of his own beloved brother in him that he nearly laughed each time he heard his son berate his younger siblings. Mariah was of course the perfect little lady, smart and polite she was the delight of Sunspear, many people swooned over her and Gyles had already received offers for her hand even though she was not yet flowered, and he knew that soon enough he would have to beat back the boys that would come a crawling. His second daughter Lyselle had discovered a love for weaponry after spending time in Yronwood and so Gyles had made sure to spend some time each day training her how to fight and defend herself, at some point that might become useful for her to know. His second son, seven year old Olyvar was displaying a keenness for knowledge and books and could already out read and out knowledge half the maesters in Sunspear and Dorne, something that filled Gyles with pride, for unlike his grandfather, he knew how to appreciate the gifts the gods had given his children and he knew that at one point such a gift could be put to good use for the family.

Of course his resentment of his grandfather had lessened somewhat after he had received a gift from beyond the grave from him. Gyles had often grown up thinking his grandfather resented his existence and hated him for being a bastard, and that it was because of this that he never bothered trying to even communicate with him, even though he tried with Daemon who never cared to reciprocate. Of course the spear had changed some of that, his grandfather it turned out had before he had died had commissioned several craftsmen from Qarth to make a spear for him from Valyrian steel. The gift had arrived the day of his thirty ninth nameday, and had come inscribed with a personal message from his grandfather, it had read _. “Gyles,_

_"I was a poor grandfather to you, but never think I didn't value you. I did not care that you were a b***, because my own brother was and I valued him more than all other things; to both my pride and my shame._

_"I saw you push yourself, as I and my brother Theon did in our youth, to prove yourself the equal of your elder brother and to prove yourself in mine own eyes. Yes, I know that was part of the reason. You could not have my Kingdom, so you wished to have my skill as a warrior._

_"Know this, Gyles. You proved yourself every bit my equal as a warrior, but you proved yourself my superior as a man. Where I was called a god of war by friend and foe alike, you will be called a protector sent by the gods. Where I was hated, you shall be loved. Where I could not see beyond the blood-soaked fields of battle, you will see the peace beyond and be the better for it._

_"Now take up this spear, honour your ancestors by being a defender of your people, and know that I am proud of you._

_"Your most humbled grandfather,_

_"Daeron Stark"_

Gyles had felt a tear role down his cheeks as he read the letter and though he had shown his children and wife the spear and had fought with it in training he had shown no one the letter that would remain his and his alone. Proof that his grandfather had cared about him and it meant the world to him. If only he had tried to do something like that for Daemon, Gyles knew his brother resented their grandfather maybe even hated him still, even if his resentment for his wife Visenya had lessened, and so it should have with the number of children they had.

There were other things that had taken up most of his time as well since the spear, he had not been able to communicate with his brother as much as he would have liked, he had been busy fulfilling his lord marshal duties, training the standing army of Dorne, making sure they were ready for whenever war came next to Dorne, and making sure that they were alert and not complacent. He had led them on training expeditions along the coast of Dorne, and along the red mountains testing their stamina and making sure they could fight in all conditions, and under any sort of suspense. For Gyles knew that the Targaryens would never attack fairly, it was not in their nature and so it was best to be prepared.

It seemed the king had had the same thought process. King Berros was growing old, and sickly but still he attended court and council meetings and so he had called a meeting today to discuss the issues at hand. He was a towering man, intimidating and fierce, and when he spoke the whole room went silent. “You all know why we are here my lords and lady. I will not beat around the bush. We have had peace since the Vulture King was cut down, but we also have had traitors amongst our lords, Allyrion, Santagar they all tried to bring the Martells back and have been dealt with. What I want to know is how did they get to that level where an invasion might have happened?”

Blackmont speaks then his voice silky. “It’s clear is it not Your Grace? There is a traitor in amongst us who seeks to grow more powerful by bedding down with the Martells and the dragons.”

“And who would you suggest this be my lord of Blackmont? Lord Fowler, who was the one who gave us the information on Allyrion and Santagar in the first place?” Lady Velena Vaith asks.

“No I believe it is someone who has been masquerading as a friend to us all for some time, and has been secretly gathering all the information they could on our strengths and weakness through coming to court frequently and by getting friendly with Prince Edgar.” Blackmont replies.

Edgar speaks then his voice as gruff as his father’s. “You cannot mean Saeron Qorgyle? That man is more loyal to this kingdom than anyone other than Gyles that I have met. He would sooner cut his own arm off then sell us out to the Martells and their inbred friends.”

“That is what he wants you to think my prince,” Blackmont counters. “He is known to be cunning and sly, and has travelled the world many times, and has even docked in at King’s Landing. What is there to say King Aerys did not offer him something in return for selling us out. It is no secret that you are close to the man, and he has not always been the best of men to associate with. He might have been feeding you one thing and taking another.”

“I won’t believe it. Not of Saeron.” Edgar says.

The king is silent for a moment before saying. “Very well Perros since you are convinced that it is Saeron get as much proof as you can, and then bring it before this council otherwise I will dismiss this from the council and pretend like it never happened. Now what more news do we have of the Targaryens and their movements?”

Gyles speaks then. “Well we know that King Aerys has been in deep discussion with Tywin Lannister and Jon Arryn about many things, and that the Marcher lords have been training their men vigorously for the past two years, though for no stated purpose as far as I can see. We also know that the royal fleet has been rebuilt and that the Redwyne Fleet is sailing and patrolling the seas more often than it has done since before the dragons came.”

“And what do you think this means then Lord Gyles?” The king asks. Though Gyles knows his uncle already knows the answer.

“It means that the Targaryens are preparing for war and they are trying to find out where we are weakest. I have made sure patrols have been tripled, the men on the borders have orders to seize and arrest anyone they view suspicious and question them using any means necessary if they do not have the right permission to be crossing the border. I have been training the men day and right for as long as the spring has been here. If war comes we shall be ready and we shall win.” Gyles replies.

“And what of our fleets, we might face attack from the sea if the Royal fleet and the Redwyne fleet join together we would be sunk.” Prince Edgar says.

Gyles smile and says. “Oh I don’t think we need to worry about that. Our fleet is secure and strong and ready, should the need arise the north will aid us as will the iron islands. That is if the Redwyne fleet even leaves the docks, my source knows something that could end their threat once and for all, he merely waits my signal.”

The king nods and then says. “We might not get aid from Winterfell Gyles. King Daemon Stark has called his banners and marched north for the lands beyond the wall. It seems he means to become the true king of the north. All the fighting power in the north and the golden company has gone with him.”

 _So that’s what he was planning, very good brother, finally removing grandfather’s shadow from yourself and creating your own one._ “Very well,” Gyles says aloud. “But the Iron Islands are still there if we need to ask for outside help.”

“Very well then,” The king says. “If that is all then the rest of you apart from Edgar and Gyles may leave us.” Once the door has closed the king turns to his son and says. “Now we wait for Blackmont to rat himself out and all shall be as it was.”

Gyles looks at the king and then at the prince and asks. “Your Grace, what do you mean?”

It is Prince Edgar who answers him. “Gyles you did not think that we would simply allow Saeron to be brought before court and questioned as extensively as Blackmont would have wanted him to be do you? No, whatever Saeron has done he has done on father’s orders. He has planted the seeds in Aerys head and when their invasion does take place we shall crush it and end the threat to Dorne once and for all.”

“What of the research Blackmont will do though?” Gyles asks.

“Oh he will find things, sure enough he will. But they will make him seem guilty, and they will be right in doing so. Blackmont has been trying to sell us out the minute Loreza Martell fled. He shall be done with by the time this is all done, I can guarantee you that Gyles.” King Berros says.


	6. While My Guitar Gently Weeps

**Lord Jon Arryn**

King’s Landing was stifling, Jon had always heard tales of the stench of the city of dragons from both his father and grandfather and he had never thought that he would come to agree with their views on the city. Sure he had been pleased and honoured when King Jaehaerys had asked him to take up a place on the small council as master of laws and when King Aerys retained him for the position he had felt validated and appreciated. However, he had been in the city of vipers for eleven years now and he was beginning to tire of it all, the back biting and the winding path that most of the nobles and the council often took. He was a good player of the game but the way that it was being played now was going against his morals and his words, As High As Honour, the words meant more than just a motto to him, they were what he lived by, a code to keep him sane and mortal and what he was doing in King’s Landing was going against that and he could not stand that.

There was also the matter that he had no children from his own loins. Oh sure his nephew Elbert and cousin Denys were his heirs now, but he had no heirs from his own body and that deeply worried him. He had been married twice, first to Jeyne Royce  a match his father had made for him in order to reward Lord Royce for his loyalty during the Blackfyre wars, and the second marriage had been to his cousin Rowena Arryn a match that Jon had done for love, he had truly loved Rowena, more so than he had ever loved Jeyne, and perhaps that love had been the cause of her death. His father’s niece, Rowena had grown up in Old Anchor with Uncle Norbert and his children and something about the change to the Eyrie had not agreed with her and she had fallen ill and had died of a fever four years ago, with no children for the marriage.

Jon, knew that he was getting on in years he had turned fifty just two moons ago, and he knew that soon enough he would be viewed as an unsuitable match for any lord’s daughter, and he did not want to end up like Walder Frey, that man was more of a crone and a hag than half the people at court. And so Jon had eased off on looking for wives for himself and instead had begun looking for potential brides for both Elbert and Denys, Elbert was but eleven years old and as such could wait for a while before Jon actively pursued brides for him, whereas Denys was at fifteen nearly a man grown, and though he was descended from a cousin of Jon’s more would need to be done to ensure his place in the succession was secure and that was why Jon had looked to Uncle Norbert’s granddaughter Alyssa and had suggested a betrothal, the idea had worked and now Denys and Alyssa were to wed in two years.

As part of the peace that had been signed under King Jaehaerys, it had been agreed that in time the lords of the south and the north would send their spare children to foster with houses in the other kingdoms, and though none of the other houses had actually followed through with it, House Stark of Moat Cailin, whose lord was Rickard Stark a smart and cunning man had sent his second born son Eddard to foster at the Eyrie, and Lord Steffon Baratheon the king’s own cousin had sent his own son and heir Robert to foster at the Eyrie as well. Jon had been there to receive the both of them, and had seen instantly that the two of them were the polar opposites of one another. Where Robert being the heir to the Stormlands was bold and brash, Eddard was a shy and quiet second son who often trailed Robert like a loyal companion, and Jon knew from what Nestor Royce had told him that the two were quickly becoming thick as thieves and were doing all kinds of mischief, the kind that Jon and his own friends had engaged in back when they were young. He was looking forward to returning to the Vale to take the two young boys and Elbert under his wing to train them and teach them how to be good honourable men.

Of course before he could do that there was the matter of the council and the remaining business he had to do before he left, he had already notified the king and the hand that he was resigning. The king had accepted his resignation with dignity, and had simply wished him well on whatever else he decided to embark on in the future. It had been the hand, young Tywin Lannister a cunning and sly man by all accounts who was ruthless when he wanted to be, who had actually sat down with Jon and asked him why he was leaving King’s Landing. Jon had been silent for a long moment as he debated over whether or not he should tell the hand the true reasons for his departure, after all it was no secret that the hand and the king were very close, but then again Jon had noticed a developing tension between the two and there were rumours abound that it was Tywin Lannister and not Aerys who did the ruling in Westeros, something that had not pleased the king. Eventually no matter how much the lie killed him to say, Jon had said. “I am not cut out for this game Tywin. I am an old man who no longer hungers for power or glory. This council and game is a thing for younger men. I shall return home and see to my charges.” That was only partially the truth, the full truth was that there were signs that he had picked up on as had Walder Frey a most unlikely ally, and these signs pointed to the fact that the king might be falling into a dark pit, the king had always been passionate and prone to bouts of anger or temper that could be quite frightening, but they had always passed by relatively quickly, nowadays they were taking longer and longer to pass by, and there was often a strange glint in his eyes once they did. Jon did not want to be in King’s Landing when the pin finally dropped. He wanted out and he wanted his people safe.

There was just one last thing he had to attend to in King’s Landing before he could return home. One last small council meeting, the king had come to him the day before and told him that he wanted his input on one last thing before he returned home, and so Jon had agreed to come. They were all present, the council of the king, hand Tywin Lannister Lord of the Rock and a ruthless man, master of coin and cunning Walder Frey a firm ally of Lannister, master of ships old Lord Maegon Velaryon loyal to the throne alone, master of whispers Lord Roose Bolton a newbie to the council and as of yet untested, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower and finally Grand Maester Pycelle. The king was present for today’s meeting and once he had sat down and bid them all to sit down he spoke. “This is Lord Arryn’s last council meeting with us before he returns home; let us make it a informative one. Pycelle what news is there from the citadel?”

The Grand Maester was silent and then said. “They say that this summer shall last a long time Your Grace, and that the terrain near the border with Dorne is nearly as good as can be at this time of year.”

Jon sees the king nod and then hears him ask. “Lord Bolton what news do we have from our sources in Dorne? How have the Yronwoods reacted to the revelation that there is a snake in their midst?”

Lord Bolton speaks so softly Jon and the other council members have to strain to hear him. “Yronwood has sent his lapdog to go and investigate into the matter, Gyles Stark has gone on a mission to discover who it is that is leaking their secrets, but he is doing so with the subtlety of a boar charging through the woods. Blackmont remains convinced that they do not know it is him who is leaking the information and has been laying false trails for Stark to follow that will lead him to Saeron Qorgyle and will lead to a civil war in Dorne.”

“And you are sure of this Lord Bolton?” Tywin Lannister asks. “Because the last time there was dissent in Dorne it was cut off before it could fully grow and develop due to someone ratting us out on this end. We do not want that to happen again if we want to be successful this time. There will be a civil war in Drone that we shall be the heroes of you are convinced of that?”

Bolton is silent for a moment and the he says. “I am very sure my lord hand. Dorne is reaching boiling point. Berros Yronwood is an old man who will die soon, his son Edgar is a hot head who has no mind for politics and wants a war as badly as his companions do. Soon enough we shall have war and we shall emerge triumphant. Dorne is a divided land, and the Martells have the answer to their woes.”

“Yes yes that is all well and good,” the king says. “Dorne will be burning and in the hands of the Martells before the year is out if all goes to plan. Now what other news is there? What news from the north?”

Lord Bolton is silent once more and then says. “Well Your Grace, as you know Daemon Stark called his banners and marched north of the wall to bring the free folk to heel two years ago. The Golden Company joined him in his little adventure, and so far they have managed to bring everything from Whitetree village, the haunted forest, and Craster’s keep and the Fist of the First men under their control. The wildlings in those areas have bent the knee to Daemon Stark and have elected someone known was Torrhen Thunderfist as their chief, and have added their strength to Stark’s host. The northmen have moved west under Stark’s command to conquer the lands of Skirling Pass, the Frostfangs and Thenn.”

“So the wolf truly does want to become King of the north then eh.” The king says. “Well that puts the Night’s Watch in an interesting position does it not? What happened to that Blackfyre scum who became Lord Commander?”

“He died fighting the wildlings in the Haunted Forest Your Grace. It appears the Night’s Watch has become an unwilling ally in Stark’s conquest of the north. After all it does lessen the threat the wildlings pose to the wall and also means they can more easily pay of the loan they owe to Volantis.” Roose Bolton says.

“Well I suppose that means we do not need to send the rest of our criminals to the wall then as punishment for their crimes then.” The king says.

“Where would we send them then Your Grace?” Jon asks genuinely curious. “The wall has often been the sentence for those whose deaths would serve no purpose. The watch has always had need of able bodied men, and our cells are not as strong as they used to be in holding all the filth that would otherwise head north.”

The king is silent for a moment before he says. “Oh we will still send men to the wall, but there will be many more executions now then there have been as of late. It is time we brought true justice back to Westeros, and show these criminals what happens to those who break the law.”

* * *

 

**Queen Visenya Stark**

Even this far north of the wall there was a certain grimness and darkness that reminded her of Winterfell. It was strange really, she had come to Winterfell as a fifteen year old girl, not really sure why she was there and not feeling anything other than pure resentment for the fact that her brother, the one person she had loved her whole life, the only person she had ever been able to trust was selling her to the northern savages that had defended their cause for years, and to a man she did not know simply for swords. Swords that they had not even bothered to send south to aid her brother, Daeron Stark had been a great man a proud man, she had grown up hearing stories of the man’s greatness and what she had seen during the first year of her marriage was a man who was old and a shadow of what he had once been, trying to make up for crimes he did not commit. Still once her brother had died slain by a traitor she had been on her own.

The man she had married, Daemon Stark now King of the North and Iron Islands, had been a man in mourning for his dead wife and daughter, a man who was so angry and resentful of so many things that Visenya had not been sure whether or not they would ever have a happy married live, even if there was no love there. Her husband had done his duty alright, he had gotten her with child on the day of their wedding and had continued to get her with child for the first ten years of their marriage. Their children Daenaera, Delena, Aemon, Barthogan, Cregan, Lyarra, Rickon, Dacey and Rodrik were the only things that had made life in Winterfell normal for her. And they were the only things that brought her husband and she together. They both fiercely loved their children to bits, both had lost too much to not be so fierce in their love of their children, and Visenya was determined that her children would never know the pain and uncertainty that she had during her own childhood. A warrior by training and nature if not by birth, Visenya had learnt how to defend herself and fight from a young age and she was determined that all of her children would know how to do so. That was why she had started training her daughters Daenaera and Delena how to fight with swords, Delena had taken to it like a fish took to water, Daenaera did not and preferred to sing and sew and do things that Visenya never understood and could not understand. No matter how hard she tried, her daughter just would not budge on the matter and would not even try to improve on her sword fighting skills, Daemon had told her to let it go and she had not, and they had argued, a fierce argument one of the many she had had with her husband over the years.

Visenya was very fond of her husband, she even thought she might love him, but how she could not, he was a kind man, loving to their children, he was a very good lord and king and was fair and just to his people and lords. His lords loved him and would die for him if they needed to; in fact they had proven as much during this campaign. But she did not know him, not the side of him that hardly anyone saw, she did not know his inner most thoughts, those he still kept shut off from her, even though she had spoken to her of her own life in Essos and the things she had seen and done, and though he had listened to her, he had never told her about himself. Other than what she knew now, she knew little about her husband beyond what she saw of him with their children or at court. It was as if he was deliberately shutting her out, as if she was not good enough for him, because she was not Samaira, the woman he had wed and loved before she had even been in the picture. There were times where Visenya wondered if her husband would have been happier with a ghost than with her and their children, and then she would feel guilty over such thoughts when she saw him with their children where he was unguarded and was not King of the North but simply a loving and caring father. And when she saw him with his grandmother, Queen Dowager Dacey Stark or with his uncle and his brother Gyles, she saw a side to him that she had never seen before and she felt hurt by that as it seemed as if he did not trust her, not with all of him. She had spoken to Dacey Stark about it and her good grandmother had simply told her that Daemon was far too much like his grandfather to ever admit to something when he did not know what it was he was feeling.

The more she thought about it, the more Visenya thought that perhaps her dealings with those southern lords still loyal to her father’s cause had perhaps done more harm than good for her relationship with her husband. Daemon Stark was very anit southern, he hated everything to do with the south and Visenya still remembered the arguments that they had had when she had been pregnant with Aemon; her husband had not wanted a Valyrian name for their firstborn son saying. “The Valyrians have brought nothing but pain and suffering to my family. Just because my grandfather was blinded by some gods damned illogical devotion to his bastard brother does not mean that I have to continue the tradition he started. House Stark is of the north and the blood of the first men, it is time we remember that and remind our bannermen that we are the north.” Eventually her husband had caved in and Aemon had been named Aemon, but her husband had said that he was not being named for “That idiot who died on the Bleeding Water, but for Maester Aemon.” The rest of their children had northern names and Visenya suspected that her husband had never really forgotten her stubbornness and the methods she had used to get the name to stick.

Then there were her dealings with Houses Peake, Costayne, Bracken, Shawney and Plumm and how she was negotiating trade deals with them to build up the coffers for another invasion for when her nephew Rhaegon was old enough to march to war. Her husband had found out and had argued with her, and had given her such a tongue lashing she had been worried that he would hit her. He had accused her of breaking the peace he had worked so hard to bring about, for something that had always eluded her family, and that he would not shed more northern blood for some gods dammed chair of swords that meant nothing to him or his people. When she had tried to point out that this war would be a chance to avenge the blood spilt by the Targaryens her husband’s eyes had hardened and he had stared at her and said. “Your family shed that blood, not mine and not the Targaryens. Yours.” After that they had not spoken all that much, in fact that had been before her husband had marched for beyond the wall that had been two years ago and she had not seen him since that day and it was eating away at her.

Though of course there was the frustration of not being able to fight, something that she had been doing since she was a child. So of course when her husband had sent a raven asking her to call for more men from his bannermen, and when they had arrived and started discussing who should lead this fresh deployment of men she had volunteered herself for the job and not a single lord had objected. And so that was how she had found herself marching north from Winterfell after saying a painful farewell to her children and leaving Maester Aemon in charge for the time being, they had marched for three weeks before reaching castle black where Ser Matthis Rowan the steward let the through the gates and into the lands beyond the wall. From there they had used the date of the letter Daemon had sent to march for where she thought her husband would be camped, on the front lines in the Milkwater She walked into the tent accompanied by Ser Loras Manderly and Lonnel Flint of the Winter’s Guard as her husband was speaking about some plan or the other, he stopped when he saw her and the two warriors of the guard. “My lady,” her husband said n change in his tone though his eyes had hardened “Please do join us, we could use your opinions.” Visenya smiled and took a seat next to her husband who dismissed her guards with his eyes. He continued speaking then as if nothing had happened. “A raven arrived from Lord Glover, he has managed to get the Skirling Pass and the clans there to surrender and bend the knee. They have pledged their support to the cause, I have instructed Glover to remain in the pass for the time being. Now that the extra men are here I will divide them up and send them out. I would hear what other news we have from the front.”

A big broad man Visenya recognised as Wyman Manderly spoke then, “I think that we should send men under the command of Ser Loras to aid Lord Glover in taking the Frozen Shore. The Seal clans will be expecting an attack Your Grace, better to attack them now when they do not have time to prepare than when they are ready and willing to fight.”

Her husband was silent for a moment and then he said. “My lady, how many men made it here with you?”

Visenya looked at her husband and saw that his eyes were still hard as ice, and so she said. “I brought the men asked for. 15,000 men from the lands near the seas.”

Her husband was silent and then said. “Very well, Ser Loras may command 8,000 of those men to the Frozen Shore, he is to join up with Lord Glover’s host in the pass and take the shore as bloodlessly as possible. But he is to bring me the Weeper’s head. Now as to our own plans, we hold the Milkwater, the wargmar clans have broken but we still face opposition from the giants and from the Gargoroth Clans. We must take the Frostfangs before we can take Thenn. It will be a long hard struggle but it can be done. We shall march in two days time, but Lords Umber and Ryswell shall stay behind to ensure we do not lose the Milkwater.”

There is a mutual voice of agreement from the lords present before a man with fiery auburn hair and a fiery mouth speaks. “And what of Thunderfist and the wildlings who have bent the knee to you Your Grace? Do they not need observation as well?”

Her husband’s jaw tightens and though his voice his calm, Visenya can hear the anger in it at being questioned by this auburn haired stranger. “Ser Ryam, I did not know you had such concerns about Thunderfist. The man might be a wildling but he has done more for our cause than you have at present. And need I remind you that you are acting as a representative of the Watch until your brothers elect a new commander. So until that time, hold off on the righteousness on me please. Now if there are no more questions, I wish to speak with my wife alone.” The lords all get up and bow before them, though Visenya can sense the tension in the air, she knows her husband is angry, if his direwolf Mars who is pacing back and forth in the tent is any indication. Once the last lord has left, her husband stands up and goes to the flap of the tent before turning round, his eyes icy and his voice cold. “So you decided to ignore my orders Visenya? Why am I not surprised. What were you thinking coming here with the men?”

Visenya bristles then and feels the anger boiling inside of her. “I am not some dim witted girl to remain at home whilst you are out fighting. I did not go against your orders, you said I was to remain in Winterfell until I was cleared for riding and fighting, well I have been for the past year, and I have decided to fulfil my duty as Queen of the North and come and fight beside you, my husband.”

Her husband snorts and says. “Are you sure that is the real reason why you came here Visenya? You say fighting is the one thing you are good at and the thing you love, but what of our children hmm? You are a mother first and foremost, never forget that Visenya. A fighter you might be, but our children need you, they are only young. They need their mother more than they need their father at this point. You have left them without both their parents, why do you think I said you could not come immediately, I knew you would have left much sooner had you known that I would have allowed it. But you have gone now, and you seem not to care that you have. What am I to make of this? What are my men to make of this? Their king’s wife appearing suddenly during the campaign after their king has ordered her to remain behind.”

“You think I do not miss our children Daemon?” Visenya says angrily. “I miss them more with each passing day. I made sure they were well looked after before I left, I would be of no use towards them if I did not come. I am a fighter Daemon not a stay at home person, I am better served to our family and our people if I am there to help you in this campaign. And what should you care what your bannermen would make of this, they will see a king and queen working together. And besides since when has the dragon ever thought to worry about the opinion of sheep?”

“I am not a dragon Visenya, how many times do I have to tell you this? I am a wolf, I am northerner, I might bare the name of a dragon, but I have northern blood flowing through my veins. My direwolf is proof of that, and without my bannermen I am nothing. They made my family king they can easily unmake me. I am not my grandfather and I am not a Blackfyre.” Daemon says his tone angry.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Visenya asks, her anger growing.

“I mean that your family is good at making allies, but they were terrible at rewarding their loyalty. Because they never won. And I will not have you poison my bannermen against me, or my family because of some foolish pride on your part. You are my wife, and my queen, and I respect you, hell I even care for you. But you will not undermine again, if you do then I will send you back to Winterfell bound and gagged.” Her husband says.

“Would you rather I be some weak willed woman who simply becomes a brood mare for you Your Grace? Would you rather I be a woman who knew not how to fight, so that you could keep me under lock and key, because that worked so well for you last time did it not, when the assassin came.” Visenya knows she has overstepped when the words come out of her mouth and yet she cannot bring them back.

Her husband is silent and then in a deadly whisper he says. “We leave at first light in two days time. Mars will lead you to your tent.”

“Daemon, I...” she says

Daemon interrupts her. “You have made your point Visenya, you will stay, but now I wish to be left alone. Now go.”


	7. Ice Eyes

**King Daemon Stark**

For three years he had been away from Winterfell, three years in which winter had come and gone and spring had come and gone; now summer was here. Three years in which Daemon had fought battles and negotiated deals to bring the wildlings or the free folk as they preferred to be called into the kingdom of the north and the iron islands. It was something that had always been a dream of his as a child, he had never understood why his grandfather had only cared about the south, he would never understand why the Blackfyres were so much more important to his grandfather than his actual family and his actual people. The lords of the north and the Iron Islands might sing the praises of his grandfather now, but Daemon remembered when a different song was sung of him, he never wanted to be his grandfather and he wanted nothing to do with the south.

 In that respect growing up in the Wolf’s Den had gone him a world of good, where as that fool Lucerys Blackfyre had grown up hearing stories of the Dragonknight and the Young Dragon and had his head filled with stupid ideas of southern honour and adventure, Daemon had grown up hearing about Brandon the Builder, Benjen the Sweet, Theon the Hungry Wolf and Brandon Ice Eyes. Northern heroes, whose duty had been to the north and who had fought the wildlings and protected the north from harm. Daemon had always wondered why none of them had ever thought to bring the wildlings into the kingdom, and the more he thought about it the more he thought it would make sense. The Night’s Watch was a shadow of what it truly should be, the wildings were of the first men same as the northmen, the giants were their friends not their enemies. It made more sense to ally with them and bring them under leadership from Winterfell.

Daemon had spent the first nine years of his reign ensuring that the peace in the south continued meanwhile he also asked for maps and information about the lands and people beyond the wall from his uncle at the Night’s Watch. If he were to bring the free folk under his command he might as well know all there was to know about them, he had figured.  So far it had served him in good stead, the lands that were now being termed the crow lands, everything including Craster’s Keep, Whitetree village and the Haunted Forest belonged to Winterfell now, the wildling tribes there had either been beaten into submission or had been incorporated through negotiation. Torrhen Thunderfist a wildling who had led the wildlings of Whitetree had been elected as the leader of the Crow Lands people.

From there they had moved to the Milkwater where they had fought the wargornmin clans led by one Alester Murgan, who claimed to be a descendant of a bastard son of Raymun Redbeard. It had been Daemon’s pleasure to slay the bastard whose own ancestor had slain Daemon’s own one. The wildlings he had led had bent the knee or fled to the Frostfangs, where Daemon had then sent men under Ser Loras Manderly and Lord Edric Glover, they had met much success, the wildlings of the Skirling pass and the Frozen Shore had bent the knee after a fierce fight, Daemon had acknowledged Harmon Wolfslayer as the chief of the wildlings of the Frozen Shore and acknowledged that his line would become the hereditary rulers of the Frozen Shore. The ruler of the Frostfangs had been decided as well, Rodrik Crowkiller a fierce man had been named ruler of the fangs by Daemon after he had beaten the man in single combat, a fight that had given him the Frostfangs and the respect of the free folk, even more than what he had had before, something that seemed to impress his bannermen and his wife.

His wife, gods there was a painful thought if ever there was one he had had. His wife, Visenya Blackfyre was a very smart, cunning, beautiful and stubborn woman. He cared for her deeply, as the mother of his children and his wife, he cared for her a lot, but there were somethings that he just could not understand. Their argument had hit to close to home, and though it had been three moons ago they had not spoken to each other beyond the compulsory greetings that they needed to give one another during war councils and whilst with the men to keep up appearances, and it was beginning to eat away at Daemon. He cared for his wife, and yet he would not admit weakness to her, she had crossed a line when she had mentioned Samaira, and had she not been his wife he would have had sense beaten into her. No one would bring up Samaira and his grandfather in the same breath and live, but she was his wife and he would not kill her. Instead he would ignore and deal with the problems they had once this was all done.

Of course as always happened when he thought about his wife, his thoughts turned to their children. His eldest daughters Daenaera and Delena who were as different as night and day, where Daenaera was polite and charming, Delena was rough around the edges and not afraid to speak her mind. Daemon knew Visenya got along much more with Delena, after all Delena had taken to her martial training with as much gusto as could be possible for a girl of her age. Daenaera on the other hand had never truly liked it and so had come to him to complain, Daemon had argued with Visenya then and then Daenaera had done something Daemon was so very proud of, she had told her mother where she could shove her martial training and though Visenya was hurt she was also proud of Daenaera for standing up to her, Daemon merely wished that his daughter did not still feel as if her mother hated her, he knew that road and he never wanted his children to feel that way, yet Visenya was to damn stubborn to admit to any of it. His eldest son and heir Aemon was a mama’s boy who was growing to be a good warrior from what Maester Aemon told him, and Daemon knew that eventually he would need to wean him away from Visenya, and away from the southern nonsense she was likely to instil in him. His other children were far too young for him to know what they were truly like though once this was all done he intended to get to know them and make up for lost time.

“Your Grace,” Lord Umber’s words brought him out of his thoughts. Daemon looked at the man and then nodded for him to continue. “As I was saying, our scouts report that Andros Thenn has gathered his men and other allies and his marching towards the border between the Thenn lands and the Frostfangs.”

Rodrik Crowkiller speaks then. “Of course Thenn would bring his men to the border, he wants to use that as a ploy to lead you into his own heartland, where we will be cut off from the supply lines and then he will use the giants to bring hell fire down upon us.”

“And how do you know that? Is that something you would do Crowkiller? Considering you are sat here with us and not rotting on a spike, perhaps you have more sense than this Thenn.” Lord Theon Wull says.

Crowkiller bristles and says. “Aye it is something I would do, but Andros Thenn is a proud man, but he has always relied to heavily on the giants to be his enforcers, should they be taken away from him he will have no choice but to fight and die or bend the knee.”

“And I thought you said free folk were not kneelers Lord Rodrik,” Daemon says teasingly. “Now tell me what you mean by taking away the giants. What reason would they have to agree to anything I have to offer to them?”

“What I mean Your Grace, is that the giants might not respond well to written terms but should you challenge one of their own to single combat, they will certainly take you seriously enough.” Crowkiller replies.

Lord Cregan Umber laughs then and asks. “And what madness would make you think his grace would ever agree to that? The giants can fight for the Thenns; it will just make defeating them all sweeter when it happens.”

Daemon is silent for a moment before he says. “I do not want any more bloodshed than has to be absolutely necessary. This campaign has already dragged on for long enough. If challenging one of the giants to single combat will bring us their allegiance then I shall go for it. Now who do you think would be most likely to accept this proposal Rodrik?”

The Crowkiller is silent for a long moment pondering the question before he eventually replies. “Well Marg Man Tun Doh is what you would call a chieftain amongst the giant clans, if you send the proposal to you he will agree. He has never liked having to work for the Thenns.”

“Very well,” Daemon says. “Send a rider out, in fact Rodrik you may go along with Andrew Blackwood and you two will bring Marg Doh to a place of my choosing, in fact the Weepers Ridge should do just nicely, and you will tell him the terms of the combat. We fight till the death.”

The two of them accompanied by Ondrew Locke and Steffon Ryswell of the Winter’s Guard set of later that day and meet them at the Weepers Ridge two weeks later with Marg Doh and his company of 200 giants. Daemon rides out to greet the giant king and says loudly and clearly in the Old Tongue. “You know the condition of this fight Marg Doh? You know what will happen to your people when I kill you?”

Doh’s voice is guttural though it is easy enough to understand what he says after he has dismounted from his mammoth and caused the ground to shake. “Of course kneeler king, and when I have killed you, I will take your wife as a bed mate.”

Daemon smiles and dismounts from his own horse, and then unsheathes Ice. The two of them circle round each other, Daemon with his sword drawn ready, Doh with his club in one hand and a bone in the other. Doh makes the first move taking a large swing of his club at Daemon, Daemon manages to duck and avoid the swing just in time. Doh is big but he is also clumsy, the giant takes a few more swings some of which Daemon ducks and avoids, others which connect with his helmet and send him reeling to the ground. He manages to get up before Doh can bring down the hammer blow on him though.

He manages to get a few of his own blows in, swinging his sword at the exposed parts of Doh’s legs and body, cutting deep and drawing blood causing Doh to groan and howl with pain, which also causes Daemon to be knocked off his feet a fare few times. His armour is cracked and dented and he is bleeding profusely, when he staggers up after yet another blow, Doh is tiring out, Daemon can see that plain as day, though if Doh is tired Daemon is nearly passing out with exhaustion, still when the giant swings at him once more he manages to duck and manages to get through the gap between the club and the giant’s legs and swings Ice at both of the beast’s hamstrings striking them both in quick succession. Before the giant can react he runs out hacking at the hamstrings again. Doh growls with pain and begins falling down, Daemon’s sword is red with his blood, the ground they are fighting on is red with blood. Doh falls to the ground, making the earth shake with the force of his weight. Daemon struggles up towards him, and as soon as he can he climbs on top of the beast, and though his vision is blurry and his body is in a lot of pain he manages to raise Ice up in the air one last time and brings is down and pierces it through the giant’s throat killing him and bringing the giants to his side.

He passes out after that, and wakes up much later in his tent, from what he can see from his bed it is night time, though he knows not how long he has been out, Mars is nowhere to be seen though there is someone in his tent. “Who...” he manages to croak out his voice hoarse from disuse.

 “It’s me Daemon. It’s Visenya, your wife.” Visenya says coming to sit beside him, she dabs a wet cloth on his face then and he feels warmth envelop him.

“I know who you are Visenya, I’m injured not deaf.” Daemon snaps, and he goes to sit up and winces with pain.

“And the healers of the free folk and Maester Willam all say you need to rest, whilst your lords discuss the attack on Thenn.” His wife replies.

“What are you doing here Visenya? I thought you would be in the war council, using my men against me?” Daemon asks his voice barely above a whisper.

“What can a woman not take care of her husband when he is injured? I did learn more than just fighting when I was growing up Daemon. Besides, what were you thinking going up against the giant on your own like, that you could have been killed, you nearly were killed!” Visenya chastises him.

“I had to do what needed to be done. The giants would only accept me as their king if I defeated one of their own in single combat so I challenged their king to the combat and he lost I won. End of story.” Daemon says matter of factly.

“And what would have happened to me and the children had you died? In case you had not noticed or remembered, you are a father now Daemon and a king, Aemon is not ready to rule, he needs you. The rest of our children need you, the north needs you, I need you.” Visenya says sharply.

“Pah,” Daemon snorts. “As if you actually care whether I live or die Visenya. If I had died, you would have assumed the regency and then used the free folk, the giants and my lords to wage a war that would have ended in yet another defeat for your nephew and the Blackfyre cause. And the peace I have been striving for and working towards keeping for the past decade would have gone up in smoke.”

“Do you really think so little of me Daemon? After all this time, do you truly think that I would do something like that? I know what this peace means to you and to the north, and I would never do anything to endanger that or our children’s lives.” Visenya replies, sounding hurt.

Though he knows she is likely telling the truth, he has been feeling like this for some time now and now that he has spoken the words won’t stop coming. “Oh really Visenya? Then explain to me why you keep sending ravens to houses in the south and meeting with lords from the south? And don’t tell me that you are trying to negotiate better trade deals for the north, I would know about better trade deals if there were such things. You have been meeting with them so that you can plot a war to seat your nephew on the throne. Well tell me if you want our children safe and sound, why do that? Doing that has brought nothing but pain and sorrow to my family and to yours and to thousands of others before, why dig up old wounds again Visenya why?”

“Because the Targaryens are usurpers who deserve to be punished for the crimes that they have committed against my family and yours and to take back what was taken from my family. Don’t tell me a small part of you doesn’t want revenge for all the wrongs that were committed against the north by the Targaryens?” Visenya asks, staring him straight in the face with eyes so like Daenaera’s.

“I had my revenge when Duncan the Small, Duncan the Tall and King Aegon the Unlikely died and when my grandfather briefed his last. Visenya, your family brought nothing but grief, death and pain to the north and my family. I am the head of both now and I will not allow another war to happen, and I will not see the north exploited for it again. I will not have House Stark seen as nothing more than a sanctuary for exiled Blackfyres. And I will not have my children grow up nothing more than war.” Daemon snarls, wincing with the effort.

“Then what do you want of me Daemon? How can I work with you, if you don’t let me in?” Visenya asks her voice choking up now.

“What do you mean, I speak with you, I tell you about the council and the children. What more do you want from me Visenya?” Daemon asks.

“You only speak to me of the children, nothing more nothing less Daemon. That’s not what being married is only about. We should tell each other our worries and our joys, I tell you everything and yet you never give anything back. How am I supposed to know if what I am doing is upsetting you or angering you if you don’t tell me? I didn’t even know you wanted to bring the free folk to heel until two days before you rode out for the wall. How can we keep our children safe and sound, if we don’t even know each other?” Visenya asks a tear in her eye.

Daemon sighs and says. “I suppose I should have been straight with you from the start. I know you grew up in exile and had to fight for your life pretty much from the very beginning, and that you never knew peace. But I did, and I do. You think my grandfather was some sort of god for fighting for your family even when you kept on losing and members kept on dying, the whole bloody kingdom thinks that my grandfather was some sort of god, and some sort of paragon of honour. But he wasn’t he was a coward and a man who made a promise to someone who died so long ago that he barely even remembered his face, he kept living to that promise and it tore my family apart, and it killed my father, my mother and my uncle and aunt. It ripped my family in half, and I swore to myself that I would never allow something like that to happen, I would never allow war to tear my family apart again. The south, Targaryens, Blackfyres, Valyrians all they’ve ever done has torn my family apart, and I mean more than just the children, or anyone else, I mean the people of the north and the Islands. I am a king Visenya and I owe them a responsibility and a duty to their protection that includes the free folk and the giants. I swore to myself that I would never be the aggressor or the mad man my grandfather was, I wanted to be a protector, I wanted people to feel safe with me and around me and with my rule, the way they never did under my grandfather. That’s why I launched this campaign of the lands beyond the wall, the free folk and the giants they are my blood, and they need protecting, a darkness is coming and we will need to be united when it comes otherwise we shall all be destroyed, and I will not see my family destroyed again, not by the dark and not some stupid throne that no one really cares about.”

* * *

 

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

Winter had come and gone, as had spring, summer reigned supreme now, the 276th year since Aegon’s Landing. Tywin Lannister had been hand of the king for fourteen years now, having taken charge following King Aerys coronation. Being hand of the king was an honour that Tywin took great pleasure in, he loved his work, the court politics, the game and the intrigue it was what he was born for, it was what he was made to do and he enjoyed it thoroughly, he was quite convinced that he was the best player at court at the moment, perhaps only old Lord Maegon was better than him at the game, but Lord Maegon would soon be dead and Tywin would reign supreme as the master player of the game. The king himself was oblivious to the games going on around him, the king cared about one thing and one thing only, making sure that House Targaryen retained its unquestioned control over the kingdoms that they still had under their possession and the mistakes of his forbearers were erased and the mistakes never made again. Tywin could understand that, he had taken such steps with House Lannister after his father had died nine years ago, the whore had been dismissed and never heard from again, the Reynes and Tarbecks extinguished, the Westerlings shown their place.

The duties of the hand were many and varies, Aerys had in the beginning never missed a small council or court session, and so Tywin’s work had mainly been to actually carry out the things the king wanted done, as the king himself was not much of a doer, more of a delegator, which was perfectly fine for him as it allowed him to ensure the interests of House Lannister were looked after in the small print. He ensured that the Master of Coin, Walder Frey made sure that the Lannisters got the best trade deals and that the taxes the Westerlords had to pay were reduced by a small amount, not enough to attract notice. And then something had happened to the king and he had started missing small council and court sessions and trusting in Tywin to make sure that the court and the kingdoms were run to their proper station.

This had given Tywin scope and space to ensure that his house’s interests at court were even more firmly met, Walder Frey was firmly in his pocket, and so the master of coin ensured that the trade deals, the best deals for the trade with the north and with the free cities and with Dorne went to Casterly Rock, where Joanna had made sure that the ship masters knew to further haggle down the prices they paid to the suppliers of the goods that were then sold to the other kingdoms in the southern kingdom. Tywin also cultivated quite a following at court, Rosby, Ryger, Mooton, Celtigar, Massey and Bar Emmon they all were strong allies to have in the crownlands, and out of the crownlands circle at court there was Hoster Tully who often frequented court, Walder Frey himself, Lord Mace Tyrell and half of the Reach. Yes, Tywin was quite confident in his assumption that he was the most powerful man at court, and that the king was still powerful but was merely propped up by Tywin and his skill.

Tywin knew that Aerys appreciated the hard work and the ways in which he went about achieving the tasks set before him, and that there were some members of the council who had not been able to stomach doing similar things. The case in point being the ever honourable Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and the Vale and Warden of the East. The Arryns had always been known by their honour, and their unwillingness to do anything that would compromise that honour, and so it seemed that Jon Arryn as master of laws had done things that had seemingly gone to far beyond his moral compass, though when Tywin had looked at everything Arryn had had to deal with he could not truly fathom why the man would want to resign and leave behind a very influential position at court. As far as he could tell Jon Arryn had never had to do something that far out of the barriers of the law as defined by the throne, and had never had to bend over backwards to get something done for the king, and as far as Tywin was concerned the man was a fool for giving up such a influential position and would most likely suffer the king’s wrath in the years to come.

Still for as good as things were going at court, at home at the Rock, things were far from good and settled. Tywin’s twins, his golden twins Jaime and Cersei were thriving, Jaime as a squire for Summer Crakehall, and Cersei at court she had charmed the court to her side as well as Prince Rhaegar. That was all well and good, but his sweet and beautiful Joanna had died, died giving birth to a twisted monster of a child, a dwarf whom Tywin had learnt had been named Tyrion. Tywin had spent two days in the Rock following Joanna’s death, he was there for her burial and then he left, he returned to the rock with Cersei and he did not return to the rock for another two moons, and then he was greeted by Loreza Martell and her Dornish brats as she tried to negotiate a marriage settlement, Tywin told her no and he did not regret it, his children could do better than the Martell exiles. His heart longed for Joanna and for a chance to spend time with his children, but he had a duty to the realm and to his family and he could not shirk that off, even if he wanted to. And if he was being honest with himself he did not wish to return to the Rock to find that his wife was not there but his monster of a son was. He did not want to face that, and he wanted to make sure he never had to face that, the child would be gone by the time he next returned to the rock in two weeks time for the tourney to welcome the royal family to the rock.

For the time being though Tywin turned his thoughts back to the small council meeting that was in full swing. The members, master of coin Walder Frey, master of laws Ser Arnold Mooton, master of ships the ailing Lord Maegon Velaryon, master of whispers Lord Roose Bolton, grand maester Pycelle and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower. “I am telling you my lords, the crown cannot afford to continue antagonizing the iron bank like this, our own bank is not seeing enough money coming in from the taxes that we are putting on the houses in the riverlands and the vale and the Stormlands.” Lord Walder Frey said his voice annoyed and tired.

“And it is your duty as master of coin to make sure these taxes are being collected and paid in their full amount Lord Walder. Unless you have been skimping some of the profits for your own needs?” Lord Maegon asks.

“How dare you,” Lord Walder says blustering. “I have been nothing but a loyal servant to his grace for the past fourteen years. If anyone is at fault it is the lords responsible for making their payments less and it is why I am saying we cannot afford to piss off the iron bank not now, not when we need them to be on our side more than ever.”

“Have the iron bank said they are unhappy with what we have been telling them about the loan repayment lord Walder?” Tywin asks.

“No my lord hand they have not, but the suggestion is there.” Walder Frey replies.

Tywin is silent for a moment and then he replies. “Well then, write to the iron bank and tell them they will get the loan repayment in a moon’s time. Send word to the houses not paying the full amount of their tax and tell them if they do not pay the remaining amount in full to the crown within two weeks they will have to answer to the king’s justice. Now what other issues are there for us to discuss. Lord Roose has there been word from our sources in Dorne and the north?”

Lord Roose, a quiet man and unassuming to most, a dangerous foe to have though and very useful to have as an ally, spoke softly in response. “My sources report that the tensions within Dorne are reaching boiling point. Allyrion, Santagar and our new contact in Dorne have been stirring the pot against the Yronwoods and have come up with some new information and some new allies for the Martells. Fowler, Qorgyle and Vaith are all backing the Martell invasion, the commander of the garrison of the Roost is under our pay, and all we need now is the king’s say so and the civil war will go ahead.”

Tywin nods and then asks. “And what of the north, what has Daemon Stark being doing?”

“Daemon Stark has been consolidating his hold over the lands beyond the wall and over the wildlings my lord. After bringing the crow lands, the frozen shore, the Frostfangs and Thenn under his command he appointed several chiefs to oversee these lands. There was a rebellion led by the Sagran clan that was put down quite brutally by the Magnar of Thenn, and another rebellion led by Thorin Crowfood that was crushed by the Night’s Watch and Torrhen Thunderfist. In short Daemon Stark’s control over the lands beyond the wall is secure for the time being.” Roose Bolton replied.

“You say the Night’s Watch helped in putting down a rebellion led by Crowfood, but are the Watch not sworn to take no part in the affairs of a realm? Have they not broken that vow by crushing a rebellion?” Lord Velaryon asked.

Bolton smiled then and said. “Well in light of the treaty that Stark and the wildling chieftains signed upon the completion of his conquest, the watch still retains its third party status but can act on its own instincts. Lord Commander Matthew Marsh believed that the wildlings would threaten the wall unless the rebellion was crushed and that was the reasoning he gave for getting involved.”

Tywin nods and then says. “Well if that is all then this council is dismissed.” And with that he spent the next month preparing for the king’s journey to the Rock, he left for the Rock a day after the payment to the Iron Bank was sent off, obviously the lords who had been holding back payment had gotten the message loud and clear. The tourney of Lannisport was the best Tywin had seen for a very long time, with the royal family in attendance, the whole of the Westerlands came to attend, as did the lords from the Riverlands, the Stormlands and the Vale with some coming from the Reach and some even from the North. The tourney was held for four days, there was singing, feasts, jousting, archery and a melee. The Melee was won by Tywin’s brother Tygett, and though Tywin had expected nothing less from his brother, he still felt some pride for his little brother at the victory. The jousting was won by Prince Rhaegar, newly knighted and a shining example of the Targaryen future, he beat Tywin’s brother Gerion, goodbrother Stafford, Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Gwayne Gaunt and Ser Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard before crowning Tywin’s own daughter Cersei as Queen of Love and Beauty, something that gave Tywin hope that what he was to ask of Aerys that night would go down well.

Once the feast was done, it was just Tywin and Aerys left in the great hall, the king was quite drunk, having had more than his fare share of wine, Tywin was of course sober as day. He cleared his throat and said. “Your Grace, it has been an utmost honour having you here at Casterly Rock. Prince Rhaegar did House Targaryen very proud today in the jousting. I hope you and your family have enjoyed your time here.”

“Yes, yes it went well and was good and all. But I must say the Rock is a poorer place with Joanna around. Your wife truly would have everything much better Tywin.” Aerys slurred.

Tywin gritted his teeth and tried to hold in the anger he felt coming. Aerys continued. “Did you know she told me she loved me before she married you, and that had her father not been wanting her as Lady of the Rock and had I not been married already she would have married me. Did you know that Tywin? I would have been wed to Joanna and you would not have. Pah, but I know you did not keep me here for reminiscing, now out with it, what do you want?”

Tywin swallowed and took a deep breath before saying. “I was hoping to get your agreement on strengthening the ties between our two families. I am hand of the king and your most loyal servant, and believe that my daughter Cersei would make a fine wife for Prince Rhaegar.”

The king swayed slightly in his seat and then opened his mouth to speak, but before he did so he laughed and Tywin felt something in his gut sink. “Oh Tywin, truly you are most leal servant, more so than that rat Frey or that stiff bag of bones Mooton, or even mine own uncle Maegon, but you are just that a servant. The dragon does not marry a servant. This marriage will not happen.”


	8. Fire

**Lord Vaemond Velaryon**

Life on the Driftmark was not as complicated as life in King’s Landing. For starters there was not half the back stabbing and conniving on the Driftmark, the people there were sailors and merchants first and though they knew how to haggle for their lives, they also knew the benefits of honesty and fair trade. Something that appeared to be sorely lacking in King’s Landing from what Vaemond had seen from his time at court. The Driftmark benefitted from being the largest island in Blackwater Bay and benefitted for being the place where many ships docked in to sell their wares and their goods from the free cities before moving onto King’s Landing, hence the wealth that the Driftmark had and the ability of its people nobles and smallfolk alike to live a life of relative luxury. Life on the Driftmark was simple and Vaemond had found that he much preferred it on the Driftmark, King’s Landing was a viper’s pit and he hated living there, though of course he was a Velaryon and he would do his duty to his king.

Just as his grandfather and his father before him had done. It was hard growing up and living in the shadow of the illustrious Lord Maegon Velaryon, the man who had been wed to Princess Daella Targaryen, Maegon Velaryon had had seven children with the Princess, four boys and three girls. The girls, Vaemond’s aunts had married into nobility from the crownlands as well as from the Vale of Arryn, something that his grandfather had been known to boast about when he had been in his cups. Of his four sons two had died before they could reach manhood, taken by a winter fever in the reign of King Aegon the Unlikely, the remaining two sons Vaemond’s father Baelon and his uncle Aemon had both lived to father children, seven sons between the two of them. Baelon Velaryon had been an angry man who had not been one to mess with, Vaemond remembered the beatings he had received from his father and remembered overhearing his father and his lady mother Lady Lyselle Celtigar arguing about it one day. His father’s words were still crystal clear. “I was afraid of my father, and my father was afraid of his father, I’ll make damned sure my children are afraid of me.” And so it had gone, Baelon Velaryon had drunk himself to  death though, always living in the shadow of the great man that was Lord Maegon Velaryon the man who had raised their house to the levels of greatness it had had before the Dance, was something most people would find suffocating.

Vaemond felt the suffocation as well, hells here he was at the age of twenty nine and he still felt as if he were a boy trying to play a man’s game. His life had been spent at the Driftmark waiting for his father to take more note of him than as a mere whipping boy, and then his father had died and he had been heir of the Driftmark and his grandfather had called him to court. His grandfather had been all his father had made him out to be and more, he was strict and fearsome when angered, but he was also generous and kind when you needed help with something. But of course Vaemond lived in fear of the man from the tales and so he had very little of a relationship with his grandfather, his own mother lived in fear of her goodfather and so she offered him nothing more than simple words. Maegon Velaryon had died in his sleep at the age of seventy nine three years ago and Vaemond had been appointed to the position of master of ships by his cousin King Aerys in order to make up for the death.

A lot had happened in those three years following his grandfather’s death. The last straw of King Aerys sanity, something that had been ebbing away slowly as he listened to that prancing jack nape Lord Walder Frey, the defiance of Duskendale, an event that could have been avoided had Walder Frey not been so gods damned prickly with the taxes, had come about due to Lord Denys Darklyn feeling that he was paying far too much tax compared to some of his fellow lords in the crownlands and the riverlands, and so he had refused to pay the amount of tax due to the crown for the year until the tax was reduced and a new town charter was installed by the king. Walder Frey had been adamant in his refusal to change the tax rates for Duskendale insisting that all the lords of the crownlands were paying the same amount, the king had had to stick to what his master of coin had said and so a standoff had been reached. Eventually the king had decided that enough was enough and had decided to lead a march on Duskendale to show the Darklyns what happened to those who threatened or challenged the throne. It backfired, Aerys was captured and Ser Gwayne Gaunt of the Kingsguard was slain. Another five months passed by before Tywin Lannister the hand of the king marched on Duskendale with a force numbering some 5,000 strong Vaemond had blockaded the river and prevented ships coming into Duskendale or leaving, and though Darklyn had threatened to kill Aerys should Tywin storm the town, when Ser Barristan emerged with the king safe and sound, the detente ended and Duskendale was put to the sword, House Darklyn and all but one member of House Hollard were killed.

After that things between the king and his hand had gotten worse, Aerys had fallen into madness during those long months of captivity believing everyone from his hand to his son were after him, and so Walder Frey was banished from court, Roose Bolton became Master of Coin and a man named Varys came from Lys to be named Master of whispers. The man was slippery and cunning and Vaemond liked him not but the king trusted him and used him to his full advantage that was why they had been called to this council meeting. The first one the king had attended in two years, his hair was long and unruly, his nails longer still, his eyes were crazed. There sitting to his right was also the hand Lord Tywin Lannister an imposing man, master of laws Lord Derryk Mooton, master of coin Lord Roose Bolton, Vaemond himself as master of ships, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower a bull of a man and finally Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle. The king spoke first his voice high pitched and agitated. “I have been lapse in my duties that will change from now on. Now what news do you have for me my lords? Varys you shall go first.”

Lord Varys the eunuch the enigma spoke then a lilt to his voice. “Well Your Grace, my little birds have told me that the tension we thought existed between King Daemon Stark and Queen Visenya Stark is no longer present. It seems they have completely buried the hatchet and are now working together to ensure the north is strong and secure. However, Visenya Stark continues to converse with former Blackfyre allies in the south and continues to build up her war chest, and Rhaegon Blackfyre continues to impress he recently wed Bethany Ryswell the eldest daughter of Lord Rodrik Ryswell.”

“So the wolf is not as honourable as we all thought he was. If he is aiding his wife in building up a Blackfyre war chest then he is in direct violation of the terms of the peace treaty that his grandfather and my father signed all those years ago. Of course we all know just how little a peace treaty means to a Stark.” Aerys snarls.

“Your Grace, have you considered the possibility that perhaps King Daemon Stark is not aware of what his wife is doing and is merely trying to repair his relationship with her for the good of their kingdom?” Lord Tywin asks.

The king snorts. “Pah, once a traitor always a traitor. Stark knows very well what his wife is up to and is likely aiding her in any way he can. I will not stand for those bastard scum to invade and disturb the peace and have it said I did nothing. Lord Varys what news from the Iron Islands and the Three Sisters? How weak are they?”

Lord Varys smiles then and Vaemond gets a very bad feeling in his gut at the words that are about to come out of the eunuch’s mouth. “Well Your Grace now that you ask, it seems that Prince Jorah Stark is ailing and his grandson Prince Bennard is not as well equipped to dealing with the various conflicts and politicking that is going on in the Three Sisters. Ser Maron Wooldfield could be a good man to give the lordship of such an island should we decide to intervene. As for the Iron Islands, well Quellon Greyjoy has wed for a third time and is more focussed on his wife and getting more heirs than anything else. The Isles are largely defenceless.”

Lord Tywin speaks then. “Your Grace, you cannot seriously be considering invading the isles and the three sisters. The north has done nothing to instigate such a serious breaking of the treaty that was signed all those years ago. Such a thing would only be looked upon badly.”

The king snorts and disdain laces his voice when he replies. “The dragon does not concern itself with the opinion of sheep. The north has broken the terms of the peace quite considerably by continuing in aiding and abetting the Blackfyres when it was quite clearly stated they were not meant to. They shall pay and we shall take back what was taken from us. Send the ravens Pycelle, Tyrell and the Redwyne Fleet shall attack and destroy the Iron Fleet and take Pyke and the Isles. Vaemond you shall take the royal fleet and attack the sisters and take them back in my name.”

Though he does not feel comfortable with what is being asked of him there is nothing more he can do except nod and take command of the 10,000 crownlander troops that come with him aboard the royal fleet and the 10,000 troops from the Vale that join them. It is decided that Ser Barristan Selmy shall lead the troops when they get to ground and that Vaemond shall lead the sea battle. The commanders who come with him on the fleet include Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard, Lord Jon Arryn, Lord Andrew Melcolm and Lord Borros Celtigar.

It takes them a month to reach the shivering sea and another two weeks to reach the outpost of the Three Sisters when they arrive they are all tired and yet the sight of ships ready and waiting for battle surprises them all. “They were expecting us,” Vaemond says surprised. “Someone ratted on us.” And there is no time for any more discussion for the fighting soon begins and it is intense. Not only is it the fleet of the Three Sisters but the one hundred war galleys docked in at White Harbour that make up the northern eastern coast fleet are there as well commanded by Admiral of the Narrow Sea Lord Edwyn Stark. The battle is fierce arrows are loosed, catapults are fired and men die and burn on the waters and on their ships.

The fighting is harsh and fierce and it passes Vaemond by in a blur, he has fought pirates before and has fought sellswords but this is something else. The northmen are pissed off and they have every right to be, Vaemond kills about twenty of them before he realises he has lost half his fleet and the northmen just seem to be growing in number. He kills a man he believes to be Lord Edwyn Stark before ordering his men to retreat. The battle of the Shivering Sea lasted for five hours and ended with a southern retreat due to the number of casualties and sunk ships they suffered. Lord Edwyn Stark was the only casualty of the note on the northern side.

* * *

 

**Queen Visenya Stark**

It had been six years since the conquest of the lands beyond the wall had ended. Ending with the subjugation of the people of Thenn, with Magnar Andros Thenn bending the knee to her husband when he saw just how many men Daemon had, something akin to 50,000 men northmen and free folk and giants alike. The Thenns had been incorporated into the new kingdom that her husband had created and had been allowed to keep their lordship over the people of Thenn. Other new lands and lords had been created as well, the lands that included Whitetree village, Craster’s Keep and the Haunted Forest were now known as the Crow Lands and Torrhen Thunderfist had been elected by the free folk of that area as their lord or chief after he had slain the other competitors for the title, a fiercer ally amongst the free folk her husband had not. The Fist of the First men that old and decrepit fort had been rebuilt and given to Torrhen Thunderfist as his seat, and from there her husband had named Rodrik Crowkiller another fiercely proud and strong member of the free folk lord of the Frostfangs, a proud man and another who was solely loyal to her husband. The giants also saw her husband as something of a god for beating their chieftain and had sworn their undying allegiance to him, some had even come south of the wall to Winterfell with her husband something that had caused quite a stir amongst her husband’s bannermen and people.

There had been two rebellions led by wildlings who had found some problem with the treaty her husband had signed with the respective wildling chiefs who had been named lord of their respective areas. The first one had been crushed in 274 A.L. by Rodrik Crowkiller, the culprit the Weeper the man was dead and his children fled but the Crowkiller had assured her husband that there would be no more trouble from his region. A second rebellion had emerged in 276 A.L. led by someone known as Garin Redbeard, claiming to be the bastard son of Red Raven, the man was certainly old enough to be and his rebellion failed, the Night’s Watch had surprisingly gotten involved in putting down the rebellion though her husband had simply told her that the wildlings who had rebelled had rebelled to close to the wall for the lord commander to not take part. Her husband had made it habit of going to see each of his bannermen and taking Aemon, Barth and Cregan when he went to make sure that they knew their future bannermen and that their bannermen knew them. It was a way for Daemon to bond with their three eldest sons and get to know them much better than she did, apart from Aemon who was her pride and joy. She had learnt from her eldest son how much of a cult had developed around her husband since he had returned from his conquest beyond the wall, her son had gushed with pride about the looks of awe and deference that her husband commanded from his lords both northmen and free folk alike, and she knew that her husband was also proud of what he had achieved and that her eldest and her husband were growing closer.

Her husband, gods how different things were between them now than they had been when they had been beyond the wall. Visenya realised now that she had been in love with her husband for quite some time before then but had been afraid to admit it to herself let alone to him in case he rejected her and still held onto the ghosts of his past. But since their conversation in their tent before the conquering of Thenn, she had realised something, her husband did love her as well he was just too afraid to admit it as well, to afraid and too hurt by some of the wrongs she and others had done to him to admit to it. They had both been working on their relationship, for their own good and for their children as well, after all a divided household was no way for children to grow up, they both knew the problems that could cause all too well. And so they had aired all their dirty laundry and talked into the early hours of the morning on many occasions about the problems they had with each other and with life and how they would go about resolving it.

 Visenya had realised that her family and her husband’s grandfather had perhaps done more damage to her husband than she had previously thought, where before she had seen a cold and uncaring man, she now saw a man who seen his family torn to shreds for something he believed not in and he never wanted to see his family tear itself apart again, and she knew he now saw a woman who loved freely and openly for those she cared about and she loved him with all her heart she was sure. And so they talked about what they wished for and she had told him in no uncertain terms that she would do all she could to make sure the north never bled in a war in the south again. She wanted the north for her family, her children to grow up in peace without the threat of a sword hanging over them and the only way to do that was to ensure that was to make sure her nephew Rhaegon took the throne that was his by rights. Her husband to his credit helped her in subtle ways, he made it easier for her contacts to come to the north and he made sure some of the profits from trade funded her expenditures, she loved him more for the quiet way he went about his job and she knew he cared for her more than he would ever put into words and it was more than enough.

She knew that her husband resented how his grandfather had been so consumed with the Blackfyres that he had never bothered to spend time with him or his brother or cousins and so she knew that if she obsessed over getting her nephew on the iron throne she would lose what she had with him and that was not something she was willing to lose. And so she worked hard to make sure she knew her children, she had made up with Daenaera and apologised for trying to force her to do something her daughter clearly did not want to do and they had bonded over their love of songs and poetry, Delena was just like a younger version of Visenya herself, full of fire and attitude and with the skill to back it up her little spitfire, Aemon was her golden child the one who could do no wrong in her eyes, she loved him with everything she had and did all she could to make sure he had what he wanted. With Cregan and Barth it was harder, Barth was such an angry young man that she knew not what to do with him and yet Daemon merely said that Barth would find his own way in life, and that there was not much she could do, it was funny that Daemon and Barth got along the most out of all their children, Cregan was quiet where his two older brothers were loud and as such Visenya knew little about him and it hurt her to admit as much. Lyarra was another Daenaera except she liked getting her hands dirty and plaything in the mud something she shared with her elder brother’s betrothed Lyanna Stark. Rickon her fourth son was harder for her to understand really, though she tried truly she tried, he was more interested in books and learning than defending himself and that was something she had argued with Daemon about a lot, her husband said that Rickon could be many things if he did not want to be a fighter. Dacey and Rodrik were like two peas in a pod where Dacey was Rodrik soon followed and vice versa and sometimes it had been hard to tell them apart when they were younger now though it was easier and Rodrik was developing into quite the fighter as was Dacey.

“I haven’t seen you sit that quietly in a long time Senya. What bothers you my love?” Her husband’s breath on her neck caused her to shiver in pleasure.

“I am not bothered my love. I was merely thinking of our children and how they are growing so quickly.” She replies, tilting her face up for a kiss.

Her husband smiles then and sits down next to her and says. “Very well then, I suppose I must cause some bother then for you.” He sighs.

“Was the council meeting that bad my love?” she asks, leaving her chair and sitting on his lap winding her arms around his neck.

Her husband sighs and says. “There were ravens from Pyke and from the Three Sisters. It appears that Aerys Targaryen has taken leave of his senses. The fool declared war on my people and has paid the price for the breaking of the treaty. The Redwyne fleet was burned to dust by the Iron Fleet and by the Western fleet of our navy. Lord Gerold Redwyne was killed and his heir is now sitting in a cell in Pyke awaiting my judgement. As for the attack on the Three Sisters, Edwyn led the defence of the sisters and they managed to burn half of the royal fleet which caused the green boy that is Vaemond Velaryon to turn tail and run. Aerys has failed.”

She kissed her husband and then looked at him briefly. “What do you intend to do though Daemon my love. You cannot let this attack go unpunished, it had no cause and as such Aerys Targaryen needs to be reminded why the Targaryens never succeeded in rattling the north before.”

Her husband sighed then and said. “I know that Senya. Maester Aemon urged for caution and for a peace envoy be sent. But of course he would suggest that he did not want any more bloodshed because of his family. But I know my people, and they hunger for blood and I am of a mind to give it to them. I have asked Maester Aemon to call the banners, the free folk shall take the longest to come, but Torrhen Thunderfist will be the first here in fact I am sure he said he’d take less than two weeks to come here if we called him.”

And so they came, the Umbers, the Reynes of Long Lake and the Thunderfists from their halls in Last Hearth and the Fist, and though the wildlings had been the traditional enemies of the Umbers for as long as anyone could remember it seemed that Lord Harrion Umber and Torrhen Thunderfist got along like a house on fire. They were the last to arrive, before them came the Ryswells, the Dustins, the Glovers, the Cassels, the Dreadstarks and the Karstarks. They were joined by the Starks of Moat Cailin and the Manderlys, Berstarks and Flint’s of Widow’s Watch and Royces of Shadow’s Point. Two of the giants that had come south of the wall with Daemon came to fight as well, saying that they wanted to repay their king or knurlar as they called him which Visenya had learnt from her studies of the old tongue actually meant god. In total they had some 25,000 men and Visenya was confident that they would win whatever battles they faced in the Riverlands.

At Moat Cailin Visenya met her eldest daughter Daenaera’s betrothed Brandon Stark for the first time, Daemon had suggested that duel betrothal and wedding take place between her son and daughter and Rickard Stark’s eldest son and daughter, in order to further ties between their two houses and to also make up for the failed matches in the south that Daemon’s pride had made sure did not happen, and to make sure Aerys Targaryen never approached them asking for one of their daughters as a bride for his son Rhaegar Targaryen. Brandon Stark was wild and wilful, but when she saw him speaking with his sister Lyanna Visenya knew that he would be good for her daughter and would treat her right. She hoped her husband and daughter could see that, they could be remarkably similar in their stubbornness when they wanted to.

Eventually they crossed through the Twins where Lord Walder allowed them to pass without a toll, something he had never done before. And then when they emerged on the banks of the green fork they found a host of men waiting for them, led by Lord Garin Mallister and containing two knights of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Jonothor Darry. The battle was hard fought at the end of it all Garin Mallister was dead his host some 5,000 strong was broken on the banks of the Green Fork, Hightower and Darry had retreated back to Riverrun where Hoster Tully was assembling another host.

They meet that host some 10,000 strong in the shadow of Oldstones where countless northern victories have been won and her husband has placed her in charge of the centre and she does not mean to disappoint him. With her son Barth also fighting next to her in the centre three warriors of the winter’s guard have been sent to protect them and they fight like they were born to it. Cutting through the men that are sent their way like they are nothing more than flies and she uses the fact that many of the soldiers she fights are unused to fighting actually fighting a woman to her advantage and she cuts them down before they can get used to her fighting style.

She soon finds herself fighting Ser Gerold Hightower the white bull and lord commander of the usurper’s Kingsguard. They exchange blows, back and forth, a dent here, a blow there, and soon enough they are both drawing blood from one another. She slashes at his throat and manages to connect as he is reeling from the blow he swings and his strength shows through and she ends up knocked of her horse and she remembers striking a rock before the world goes black.

She comes to in a tent, her head pounding with pain and something else. She looks up and sees her husband sat there half asleep in his chair, her hand in his, Daemon looks up when she moves and he smiles at her and says chokingly. “I thought I told you not to go mad when you fought today my love.”

“What happened during the battle my love? Did we win?” she asks her voice hoarse.

“Aye we won my love. We pushed Hoster Tully all the way back into Riverrun and the man is sueing for peace now and word has been sent to King’s Landing for terms.” Daemon replies.

“There’s something you’re not telling me Daemon, my love what is it? I am a big girl I can take bad news, now what happened?” she asks.

“Cregan is dead my love. Killed by Ser Jonothor Darry. The man fought our son when he was injured and needed help and he killed him. Our little boy is dead my love and there was nothing I could do to stop it.” Daemon says his voice cracking now.

Visenya tightens her hold on his hand and says soothingly. “You could not have known Cregan would fight Jonothor Darry, and if that man had had any honour at all he would have stopped. That he did not is just an indication of the rot that the Targaryens have allowed in. What of the rest of the battle how did it go?”

“It went well, Lord Borros led the centre in your absence, Barth got you to safety, and he broke the centre of their host killing half the men in some sort of mad rage. Gerold Hightower retreated to Riverrun along with Darry as well. Aemon broke the van and has Brynden Tully hostage. The Targaryens will be coming soon enough to negotiate peace and end this foolishness.” Her husband replies.

At his words on Borros and his actions she gets a bad feeling about why he reacted the way he did, but she says nothing to her husband, he does not need to know that just yet. It would hurt him too much. 


	9. Chasing Rubies

**Queen Rhaella Targaryen**

Many young girls and ladies dreamed of one day becoming queen, Rhaella knew for that was what she had also once dreamed of, but of course the songs the singers sung painted this image of courtly life that made it all seem so glamorous and joyful, full of courtly balls and dances and tournaments. Rhaella had grown up at court, a princess of the Iron Throne and had been a woman grown when she had moved to Dragonstone with Rhaegar and Aerys, she had known from a very young age that court was not filled with the songs and dreams that the singers painted of it, or even the propaganda that the hand of the king or the king himself chose to use for the court to get nobles to come and give the throne trade and service. Court was a nest of vipers with lords and ladies a like competing for royal favour, doing things that would have made their fathers and mothers recoil in horror at what their children had become.

As Queen Rhaella had to deal with the ladies of the court, the simpering fools who were to blind to see their husbands satisfied or their children raised in safety who still believed the songs they had heard as little girls. Then there were the ladies of court who knew the game that was played by their husbands and knew how to play it themselves and did all they could to get into Rhaella’s good books and perhaps get their daughters and sons advanced in life, either through squiring for her son Rhaegar or as a playmate for her second son Viserys. Rhaella catered to both types of ladies with a mask on, playing the careful hostess and the shrew when she needed to. She hated the games and the damage that they could do to one’s person and family.

She hated what the weight of the crown had done to her little brother. Aerys and she had never been more than fond of one another in a romantic sense, it had felt strange to the both of them, due to the fact that their mother had been completely against such an incestuous relationship for her children, and their father had agreed silently. Rhaella had been a very beautiful young maiden, she knew that and was not afraid to admit it, she had flirted with almost every single eligible bachelor there was in the seven kingdoms, and though she had had a romantic feeling for Ser Bonnifer Hasty she had known nothing could come of it, Ser Hasty was too lowborn to be considered a good match for a princess of the blood. Then she had loved Steffon, her cousin, she had loved him something fierce but then her grandfather had told her she was to wed Aerys to fulfil some damn prophecy, and Steffon had wed Cassana Estermont. At one point, early on in her marriage to Aerys she had hated Aerys and Cassana for taking away Steffon form her, and then she had grown up and come to accept and even seen Cassana as a sister, the sister she had never had. She knew Aerys had felt hard done by as well, her brother had loved Joanna Lannister and she knew that every day he had seen her at court, it had been a source of tension and anger for her brother.

Aerys had been a nice young man who did have a fierce temper, but was nice nonetheless and was smart when he wanted to be and then Duskendale happened. Her husband had not been the same after Duskendale, the months he had spent locked away in that gods damned castle had done something to his mind, shattering whatever walls he had built up against the anger and allowing it to completely over run him turning him mad. The sweet boy who had played with her as a child was gone, replaced by a raving lunatic who rarely visited her, but when he did she would always be there terrified he would do something or say something that would end in her being a curled up ball of a mess, the Kingsguard would do nothing, sworn as they were to their oaths. Only Viserys being a young boy prevented Rhaella from retiring to Dragonstone where her mother still lived, Viserys was too young to make the journey and she needed to keep an eye on Rhaegar as well to make sure her eldest son did not go into his melancholy, Aerys was already paranoid of Tywin, he did not need to be worried his own son would try and betray him.

Her eldest son, was twenty now and a married man, having wed Elia Martell of Summerhall six moons ago. Elia was a sweet girl, pretty and smart and charming, and she was one of the few people who had been able to make Rhaegar smile, and for that and that alone Rhaella loved her gooddaughter as she would never have loved Cersei Lannister, Tywin’s daughter, the girl who was still at court was nearly as insufferable as Tywin with her constant plotting and schemes. The marriage between Rhaegar and Elia had happened only after Aerys had exhausted all of his other options, for her husband in his madness had come to view Dragon blood as the only true match for his son and heir, and so he had looked far and wide, their family in Volantis had no daughters of marriageable age, Rhaella herself had only borne one other son Viserys since Rhaegar’s own birth. The Velaryons themselves had no daughters and Steffon had three sons and no daughters. The Starks had made sure that Aerys could not ask for the hands of one of their daughters, their eldest daughter Princess Daenaera had been wed to Brandon Stark the heir to Moat Cailin, their second eldest daughter had been wed to Lord Cregan Berstark, Lord of the Wolf’s Den and Aerys was not interested in the other daughters. Aerys had sent Steffon and Cassana to the free cities to see if there were any other girls of Valyrian blood who could wed their son, and their search had been fruitless, Aerys had been furious when the raven had come, and then Steffon and Cassana’s ship had sunk of the coast of Shipbreaker’s Bay and they had died and Aerys had mourned as had Rhaella. Rhaegar had wed Elia Martell soon afterwards.

Her eldest son was away at war, fulfilling the promise her grandfather had made to the Martells that they would regain Dorne. Her husband in one of his more lucid moments had told her that there was chaos in Dorne and that they would exploit that chaos now and uses it for their advantage. The banners had been called and lords from the Vale, the riverlands, the Stormlands, the Westerlands, and the Reach had all answered the summons and sent men to fight under the dragon banner to reclaim Dorne. Rhaella had been more than a tad worried when she had learnt her son would be leafing the armies into Dorne, she had gone to him and begged him to give the command to someone else such as Tywin Lannister or even the White Bull, her son had merely replied that this was the fate the gods had given him and he would do her proud. She had gone to Aerys then hoping her brother was not gone and dead as she had feared for so long, her husband had replied to her pleas though, telling her that no servant would take the glory from the dragon. And so Rhaegar had gone with the armies, Tywin Lannister, Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Arthur Dayne sub commanders under him, he had left behind his pregnant wife and had marched promising to return victorious.

They had been gone for four moons now and Rhaella had heard no news her husband had not seen fit to share anything with her, his mind or his body, and for that she was grateful Aerys could be scary when he wanted to be, still she hungered for news and so she had asked for her old friend Loreza Martell to come and speak with her today. Loreza often had a way of finding out news and now more so than ever they both needed to know what was happening. Ser Barristan Selmy showed Princess Loreza in and Rhaella nodded at her old friend, Loreza had always been beautiful, with her thick black hair that went down her back, her dark olive skin and her piercing brown eyes. “My Queen, you have asked for me and I have come.” Her friend purred.

Rhaella smiled at her friend and nodded to Ser Barristan indicating that he could stand guard outside. “I trust you are well Loreza? You do not mind being here keeping company with an old friend I hope?”

“Of course not Rhae, I would have taken it amiss had you not asked me here. It has been nice to see my daughter again, and to keep you company. If only Joanna was here then it truly would be a family reunion.” Loreza said smiling. “But that is not the real reason for why you asked me here is it Rhae. Tell me true what did you wish to ask me?”

Rhaella sighed and then asked. “Have you had any word about what is happening in Dorne? I know you have your sources in Dorne, and that you have your ways of getting information from the people at court.”

Her friend sighed and for a moment Rhaella had a horrible feeling that she would not like the words that her friend was about to say, but she breathed a sigh of relief when Loreza replied. “Aye I have had word from Derryck; a letter of his arrived some three days ago. My castellan forward it to me. He says that they managed to take the Roost with relatively little bloodshed. It appears the commander of the Roost has been Aerys payroll since the beginning of his leadership there some five years ago. The Roost was being used as a command base for them to plan their operations. As expected, the Yronwoods sent men to fight the armies, Prince Rhaegar sent Lord Mace Tyrell and his men ahead to counter act the threat this army would pose. A battle was fought at Lost Hole, the sight of Garin’s tomb, and Mace Tyrell won managing to slay Lord Blackmont himself and taking the residue of Starfall and High Hermitage for the Tyrells. Lord Robert Baratheon then led the Stormlands forces in crushing a host commanded by Lords Fowler and Manwoody allowing for Rhaegar and the rest of the men to march through to meet up with Lord Tyrell at Starfall. From there Derryk wrote that the Prince intended to march east and bring Sandstone and Hellholt under the Targaryen banner before marching on for Yronwood.”

Rhaella let out a breathe she had not know she had been holding and said. “That is good then; at least we have won some early victories. And did Ser Derryck mention whether or not Rhaegar had taken part in any of the early battles or whether he had been injured at all?”

“As far as Derryck knows the prince has been commanding the war from the Roost and only marched out from the Roost in order to join the armies together at Starfall. Rhaegar will be safe Rhaella, he has three of the finest knights in the realm with him, Ser Gerold has fought in more battles than Rhaegar has years he will be fine. He is more like you than Aerys anyway, he will listen to the advice that he is given and he will make the best decision he can.” Loreza replied.

“And what of your own children Loreza? How are Doran and Oberyn faring in this war?” Rhaella asked.

“They are doing well Rhaella; Derryck writes that Robert Baratheon and Oberyn get along like a house on fire. But of course they would. Derryck is keeping them safe. And that is all that matters for the time being.” Loreza replied.

 _Aye safe and sound for now, but what if Gyles Stark emerges to deal with my son, what then. Gods you had best protect my son and Loreza’s sons._ Rhaella thought.

* * *

 

**Grand Maester Aemon Targaryen**

He had been grand maester of the north for fifty years now, and it that time he had seen a great many things. He had seen a great man succumb to madness and then fight his way out of the madness, he had seen the peace long awaited between north and south come to fruition, he had seen the current King Daemon Stark come into his own as a man and as a king, and had seen the same king become a doting father and a loving husband. He had seen the north enter an age of prosperity that had been previously unseen before in its history. He had seen these events unfold and he had played a small party in ensuring that they continued to unfold. When the invasions had broken out, and the king had ridden south to war once more, Aemon had counselled him to take a peace treaty when it came, better to end hostilities once and for all than have another war happen.

The Starks were a much more cohesive and united family then they had been at the time that Aemon had become Grand Maester of the north.  Fifty years ago the Stark family had been ravaged with grief and strife, Daeron Stark the king of the time had been a great man but his madness was taking hold, his son and heir Prince Aegor was a bitter man who was angry with the world and with his father. Now the Starks under Prince Aegor’s son King Daemon were much more united, King Daemon was a great leader and king, a man who cared for his people and his family and was willing to do whatever it took to see that they never had to suffer another war again. Aemon had seen the king with his children and he knew that the king had learnt from his grandmother Queen Dowager Dacey Stark well, he loved and cared for his children all nine of them and did all he could to make sure that they remained safe and secure and happy. Aemon remembered speaking with the king about his children once and the king had shown just what type of father he was when he had said. “My wife had no childhood and is the woman she is now because of that, my own was safe but relatively unhappy. I will not allow my children to suffer the worst of both of our childhoods no matter what my wife says or does, I want my children to know that they are always safe and loved, and that their happiness means more to me than mine own.” And the king had done everything to live up to that. King Daemon had worked on his relationship with Queen Visenya, and now the two were in love with one another though there was the thorny issue of Borros Reyne, though it was not Aemon’s place to bring that up.

The Queen herself was a proud woman who loved her children something fierce and because of her own upbringing was determined to ensure that they could all defend themselves, and though at first she had wanted to make sure her children ere all warriors, after Princess Daenaera had refused to become one, she had changed her stance and now simply wanted her children to be able to defend themselves. She was respected by the council and by the northern lords, but Aemon knew that Visenya Stark still hungered for what her family had been trying to claim for nearly ninety years now, the Iron Throne. Aemon was loyal to the Starks but he could not help but wish that the queen would put her past behind her and let bygones be bygones, instead she was trying to build up her war chest and bring her allies up to power, and that had been the reason for why the Iron Throne had sent invasion campaigns to the islands and the sisters to show that they would not tolerate such things being done. Aemon had advised against any harsh action, and though the Queen had argued for more harsh action, the king had overruled her and taking his men home after the peace settlement. Her anger and rage and desire for the throne would cost more lives before this was all said and done Aemon knew and he dreaded that day.

As for the Stark children themselves, Aemon held Lady Daenaera and Lady Delena in the highest regard, they reminded him of his own sisters Daella and Rhae. Lady Daenaera with her soft speech and gentle manner reminded him of Daella, and she was a proud and fierce lady who was now wed to the wild wolf Brandon Stark heir to Moat Cailin and had borne him a daughter named Berena. The Lady Delena reminded him most fiercely of Rhea with her fierce attitude and disregard for social norms and her desire to do what she pleased when she pleased, married life it seemed had not changed her if the letters coming from the Wolf’s Den were any indication. The two oldest Stark siblings were as different as night and day and yet they both held special places in Winterfell and Aemon’s heart.

As for his own namesake, Prince Aemon Stark heir to the northern kingdom, the lad was a good man and a competent heir if a bit hot headed at times. The lad was closer to his mother than his father, and Aemon knew that King Daemon had feared that would have meant his heir would be more open minded to the south, but of course once a Stark always a Stark and lately in council Aemon Stark had proven himself to be his father’s son with his anti southern attitude and his ideas for helping improve the north’s defences and exploring a more thorough relationship with the free folk beyond the wall and perhaps lessening the role of the night’s watch. All good suggestions and showing that the Stark heir had a good mind for politics  as well as for using his sword. Prince Aemon had wed Lady Lyanna Stark of Moat Cailin, the daughter of High Steward Rickard Stark in order to pacify Rickard Stark after the failed negotiations for marriages between his son and daughter into southern houses. With the Lady Lyanna due to give birth any day now, it was likely that relations between the king and his hand would be more than perfect.

The other Stark siblings were a mixed bag for Maester Aemon, Prince Barth was an angry young man, more so since the death of his brother Prince Cregan, and was more interested in sparring and fighting in the training yard then listening to anything of history that his father and brother Prince Rickon often spoke of. Of course the Prince was close to his father and shared his hatred of the south and the Blackfyres, and that was something that put him in contention with his mother on some points. As for Lady Lyarra, she had been wed to Lord Rickard Karstark two years ago and had given birth to a son named Harrion. Lady Lyarra was much like her oldest sister Daenaera in that though she knew how to defend herself she preferred to use her mind and words than a sword. Prince Rickon Stark, was the most bookish of the Stark Children preferring reading about wars and history then fighting and practicing his swordsmanship. And though that had caused a bit of a stir with his mother and his two older brothers, with King Daemon engaging in serious discussion over history with his son, none dared voice any concerns.  As for the two youngest Stark children, Rodrik and Dacey they were like shadows of one another, one would not be without the other and so it went the joke of the people of Winterfell.

Of course that was not why the council meeting had been called and Aemon shook his head and stood up with the other council members as the king walked in with the Lord Commander of the Winter’s Guard, Edrick Snow. The king seemed tired and haggard, more than likely discussions with Borros Reyne had not gone well. Aemon was only to notice the more haggard appearance of the king due to having known him for most his life, the other council members did not notice the haggardness of the king. His fellow council members, High Justiciar Lord Jeor Mormont a gruff man and loyal, Lord Treasurer Lord Wyman Manderly cunning and good with numbers, High Admiral of the Northern Fleet Lord Martyn Cassel the Lord of Stony Shore and a proven sea captain, High Shadow the young Euron Greyjoy a man who was cunning and bold and High Steward Lord Rickard Stark. Once the kind bid them sit he spoke. “Now what news has there been since we last met?”

Lord Wyman was the first to speak as always. “Trade is going well Your Grace. Bravos and Myr continue to take in the timber we have from the Wolfswood and the Hornwood. Sales for both have increased as have the gold we are seeing from the sales. It appears both cities are more than willing to increase payments for the higher quality product. I have sent word to the workers in both woods to increase production and have instructed my men at White Harbour to oversee the melding into the products the Bravosi and the Myrish want.”

The king nodded. “That is good, what of trade with the other free cities and the Southern kingdom? How goes that?”

“Trade is going well with them as well Your Grace. We have seen an increase in profits from our trade with the Free Cities and though trade with the southern kingdoms stalled due to the Iron Throne’s invasion of Dorne, it has slowly begun to pick up once again. Our coffers are full to bursting.” Lord Wyman said proudly.

“That is good,” the king said appreciatively. “Now speaking of the war between the Iron Throne and Dorne, has there been any more information on that Euron?”

Euron Greyjoy smiled slyly and said. “There has Your Grace. As you know despite an early advantage, the Iron Throne’s forces suffered grievous losses during the battle of the Sands. Lord Mace Tyrell’s host was broken and many of his lords were killed, the man retreated back to the Reach like a dog with its tail between its legs. Derryck Caron was slain during the battle of the Bloodstone, and his sons led the retreat to the Shady Mountains before the battle turned into a rout. At the final battle, at the Whore’s Lord Gyles Stark emerged from the Shady Mountains and destroyed the Iron Throne’s army for good. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen led a much depleted host back through the Prince’s Pass after a negotiated peace and returned to King’s Landing 30,000 men shorter.”

There was a general murmur of happiness at that pronouncement though Aemon could not help but feel a tinge of sadness for his great nephew and great, great nephew. The king silenced the murmuring and then said. “Aye that is well and good, the Iron Throne’s power has been significantly reduced and Aerys Targaryen will have learnt his lesson now as to what happens when one breaks the terms of the peace treaty. Still we cannot completely afford to be lax, Aerys has shown his hand and we must prepare for another similar thing to happen in the future. Lord Wyman shore up White Harbour and instruct the lords under your command to do the same, Lord Martyn you are to do the same for the west coast. Lord Rickard do the same for the Neck. I want patrols sent out daily to make sure nothing is amiss. Now what more is there for us to discuss?”

Aemon spoke then and said. “There has been a raven from the citadel. They are requesting some aid with regards to certain information about the free folk and the histories of the first men that they are lacking. Information that they need for an encyclopaedia they are compiling for their archives.”

The king is silent for a moment and then says. “Well there is such information within Winterfell’s library, they are welcome to have access to it, but they will have to come here if they want to see it. I will not send any of my men off to the south.”

Maester Aemon nods and says. “A wise move Your Grace, I will let them know your response.”

“Now if that is all, I must needs begin my journey north.” The king says dismissing the council, Aemon knows what the king truly means and he hopes it goes well for him and the Queen, the north needs them united not divided, especially now.


	10. Songs To Invade Countries To

**Prince Rhaegar Targaryen**

The screams of the dying sometimes came to him in the middle of the day, when he was playing with his daughter Rhaenys and his brother Viserys, when he was with Elia talking about the events of the day, even when he was sparring with Ser Arthur or in council. They would hit him and he would be unable to do anything for long moments of time, paralysed as he was with grief and sorrow. His first experience of war had not gone as he had planned, ever since he had read that passage in one of the old books in the library of the Red Keep he had been convinced that he was going to be the best warrior to have graced Westeros since his ancestor Aemon the Dragonknight. Oh sure he was good with swords and fighting, but the strategy of war had completely passed him by, it was one thing to read about battle tactics and planning and another to implement one’s learning into action, and he had been found out.

The war in Dorne had been a disaster, it had gone well at first and they had struck some key advantages and then the moment Gyles Stark had come out from the Yronwood with an army at his back things had gone downhill very quickly. They had fought many battles during the nine moon campaign in Dorne, some they had won and some they had lost, but what had sealed the fate of the campaign and had ensured continued Dornish independence was the battle of the Sun. With the Tyrell host having retreated bloody and broken back to the Reach, the armies of the crown were significantly reduced and so they had fought a Dornish host that was incredibly strong and bolstered by the Golden Company, and they had lost. Only emerging safe and sound due to Gyles Stark’s honourable intentions, the man had had Rhaegar at sword point, or more aptly spear point but had given him the chance to retreat, beaten and bruised as he was. In hindsight, Rhaegar realised that the man had let him live so as to make sure he experienced the humiliation that came with a failed campaign after many expected them to win.

The failed campaign in Dorne was the third such campaign to have failed in the past two years. The first two, attempted invasions of the Iron Islands and the Three Sisters had also failed, because Winterfell had been ready for them and had sent word ahead, how they had known of his father’s plans he knew not and yet still the wars had gone ahead and they had failed. There was much strife and anger amongst the lords Rhaegar knew, they were unhappy with having given so much to the crown and having little to nothing to actually show for it. And Rhaegar knew his family were balancing on dangerous territory especially as the Starks had once again caused havoc in the Riverlands before stopping.

Rhaegar was also aware that after the failed campaign in Dorne, many of his father’s lords had  revaluated their opinion of him, they had seen firsthand the difference being an excellent tourney knight and an actual commander and warrior were for princes of the blood in him. He knew that it was no secret that he had only started training with weapons as a boy of twelve, when most boys were squiring for lords of hedge knights, of course being a prince of the blood he had served as his father’s squire and had been knighted shortly before Tywin Lannister’s failed attempt to get him to wed Cersei Lannister. His father had refused and then had fallen into madness, and Rhaegar was now determined that if he were to regain his father’s lords’ approval once more he would need to devote more time to the running of the realm and practicing his swordsmanship than pouring over the scrolls that had shaped most of his life, and would shape his children’s.

Rhaegar knew that his father was slipping further and further into madness, and that something needed to be done about him, and yet it was easier said than done to remove one’s father. Rhaegar could still remember the kind and caring man his father had been before Duskendale, and the fact that that same man sometimes reappeared when the madness disappeared made it even harder for Rhaegar to fully commit to removing his father from power. But then he thought of his little brother Viserys and his mother Rhaella and the constant danger they were both in, and he thought of his wife and daughter, and how he always feared leaving them alone lest they be subject to his father’s whims, and his resolve grew stronger.

He had not Elia all that well before they had married, he had met her once or twice at court or on the rare occasions when his father allowed him to travel the kingdom, he had stopped off at Summerhall once or twice, the home of his great grandfather. She was a sweet and brave woman who had endured the stigma of being frail with much pride. He did not love her, but he was fond of her, and they were friends, and yet he worried that she would not be able to give him anymore children, birthing Rhaenys had nearly killed her and he knew what the prophecy hinted at, there needed to be three heads, a Rhaenys, a Aegon and a Visenya, he had his Rhaenys but he needed his Aegon and Visenya, but he was loath to do that and kill his wife with the child. He needed answers and for that he had turned to his great uncle Maester Aemon who served as Grand Maester of the Northern Kingdom, his uncle told him to do what he felt was right, but what was right for the kingdoms might not be right for his family.

There was much he did not feel ready for and yet he had made his bed and he would live with the hand that life had dealt him. There was the council meeting that he was now waiting to start and then he would meet with Arthur and Oswell to discuss Harrenhal. He entered the council chamber and was surprised to find his father sat in the king’s chair, his father had not attended a council meeting for nearly two years, now so to find him here was very worrying and surprising. The new hand of the King Lord Owen Merryweather the man who had replaced Tywin Lannister who had resigned under some sort of pretext after learning that his eldest son and heir Jaime Lannister was to be raised to the Kingsguard replacing Ser Harrold Grandison who had died in Dorne. Next to Merryweather sat master of coin Lord Roose Bolton a cold and calculating man, next to him sat master of laws Lord Andros Mooton the new Lord of Maidenpool and the eldest brother of Rhaegar’s former squire Myles, to his right sat master of whispers the eunuch Lord Varys and then there was Ser Gerold and Grand Maester Pycelle. Rhaegar sat next to Pycelle and waited for his father to begin speaking. His father appeared surprisingly clear minded when he spoke. “It has been sometime since I have attended a council meeting, I wish to be brought up to speed with the goings on in my kingdom.”

Lord Bolton spoke first his words soft. “Trade has resumed as normal Your Grace. We are exporting more than we are importing to the Free Cities and the demand for wines and the copper and bronze on offer in King’s Landing has increased in both Dorne and the North. The total revenue in the crown’s coffers now stands at 12 Billion golden dragons.”

“That is good,” the king said and then he asked. “Now what of the goings on within the kingdom with regards to law making. Lord Mooton?”

Andros Mooton was a fierce man with sword in hand and had a firm sense of right and wrong. “The people of the throne’s kingdom are obeying the laws put in place Your Grace. Rape, thievery, murder and other crimes are down to their lowest since before the days of King Daeron the Good.”

“That is perfect,” the king said. Then he turned to Lord Varys and asked. “Now what whispers have your birds gotten you as of late Varys?”

Lord Varys was a sly man who Rhaegar did not trust an inch, but of course his father had come to rely on the eunuch since Duskendale. “Well Your Grace, it appears the north has gone to sleep once more, the anger that they felt over the invasions has subsided it appears Maester Aemon has more influence with the angry wolf then we thought. It also appears that new internal tensions have emerged between the king and queen involving a certain Borros Reyne. What they are about though even my little birds do not know. Still that could perhaps be used to our advantage.”

The King nodded and then asked. “And what of Dorne, what are those vipers doing?”

Lord Varys tittered then and replied. “Berros Yronwood is dead Your Grace. He died in his sleep, his son King Edgar now sits the sun chair, and broods. Gyles Stark has retired to Sunspear for the time being, my birds tell me the two had a falling out over something, and that the Yronwoods might have lost their right hand man.”

“Good, keep an ear to the ground for Dornish news and perhaps we might be able to see what other trouble we can cause there.” Rhaegar’s father said. He was silent for a moment and then he turned his attention towards Rhaegar and had a mad glint in his eyes when he spoke. “I have also decided that it would do the people of my kingdom some good to see that their king is not an invalid. Therefore I have decided that Ser Jaime’s investiture into the Kingsguard shall take place at the Tourney of Harrenhal and I shall of course come to the tourney to oversee the investiture.”

Rhaegar felt something in his stomach drop, but he kept his expression neutral, knowing that it was likely the spider had caught whiff of what it was he had been planning. His mind was working very quickly throughout the rest of the council session, so that when his father dismissed them from the chamber, Rhaegar went straight to the place where he, Arthur and Oswell had agreed they would meet to discuss their plans. He found both of them there waiting, and he said in hushed tones. “Walk with me sers. We must not be overheard.” And so they walked from the courtyard into the sparring yard, where the sound of steel on steel would override their conversation. Still he spoke his next words in a hushed tone. “My father is coming to Harrenhal.”

They stopped walking and then Arthur spoke in a hushed voice. “The spider must have told him. Does he suspect the purpose behind the tourney?”

“I am not sure Arthur; I do not know what the Spider told him. But whatever plans we have made they must be called off. We cannot have become anymore suspicious. Prince Aemon Stark and the Starks of Moat Cailin are coming to the tourney as a gesture of good faith, my father cannot be allowed to aggravate them.” Rhaegar replied.

“Will Lord Tywin come now that his grace is coming though? Without Lord Tywin’s backing it is unlikely that others such as Lord Jon or Lord Hoster will consent to doing anything.” Ser Oswell cautioned.

“Most unlikely Oswell,” Rhaegar said. “The old lion is too proud and angry to be seen with father now. Still, if we can find some way to get Jaime out of the Kingsguard before the vows then perhaps he might be more willing to come. Arthur how goes that?”

“Badly Your Grace,” Arthur replies. “The boy is quite determined to become a sworn brother. Nothing I say will change his mind.”

Rhaegar sighed and said. “Very well keep trying and I shall see what strings I can pull with Ser Gerold and Lord Merryweather.”

* * *

 

**Prince Aemon Stark**

It was strange to think that he was a married man now, he had always know that as the eldest son and heir it was his duty to wed and continue on the Stark line but he had never known what to think and expect of the marriage that would inevitably come his way. He had at first thought that perhaps his father might arrange a match with one of his bannermen’s daughters, one of the Mormonts perhaps or perhaps even a Karstark or Dreadstark, and there had been a time after he had become closer to his father that he had feared that perhaps his mother might seek to wed him to one of her southern allies, thankfully none of those potential options had happened and he had been wed to Lyanna Stark, only daughter of his father’s High Steward Rickard Stark. As her father was High Steward of the North, Lyanna had often spent a fair bit of time in Winterfell, and as such Aemon had practically grown up with her, and he had come to admire and love her fierceness and her stubbornness and her pride. He loved her dearly, truly he did and he was happy that there was none of the awkwardness he knew there had been between his mother and father in the early days of their marriage, between him and Lyanna. They truly understood one another.

He also knew he was a bit of a push over when it came to his wife, he would do anything for her and to keep her happy, and so when he had learnt that she was with child, though he had always wanted to name his firstborn child either Maelys or Visenya in honour of the uncle he had never met and his mother. When Lyanna had mentioned that she had always wanted to name her firstborn son after her brother Benjen Aemon had acquiesced, though he had managed to get her to promise that if their firstborn was a girl they would name her after his mother. Prince Benjen Stark was born on the fourth day of the fifth month of the 280th year after Aegon’s Landing with his mother’s dark brown hair and his violet eyes, and his mother’s long face. His son, he would give anything to protect his son and his wife, his life as a hot headed prince had come to an end the day he had wed Lyanna and he had ended his wildness the day his son was born. Truly it was amazing what being a father and a husband could do to you.

Aemon along with his brother Barth, Lyanna and her brothers Brandon who was wed to Aemon’s elder sister Daenaera, Eddard who had fostered in the Vale, and Benjen for whom his own son was named for had been invited to attend the tourney at Harrenhal by Prince Rhaegar. Though Aemon had been unsure of whether or not they should go south considering the hatred his father bore for the south and the risks that taking a young child on such a journey could have, eventually Lord Rickard had said that they should go south as a peace gesture to end any lingering hostiles, and so they had left their son at Moat Cailin with Lord Rickard and Lad Lyanarra. Harrenhal was just as impressive as Aemon had thought it would be, a towering structure that showed just how greedy man could be, it was a vast ruin but an impressive ruin nonetheless and Lord Whent had showed off his strength and wealth as they had approached the castle.

Once they arrived at Harrenhal, Aemon had allowed the three warriors of the winter’s guard accompanying them Ser Loras Manderly, Ser Marcus Locke and Edrick Flint to take some time off and rest. Aemon spent time with his wife and his good family, and making jokes with Brandon and Benjen over the various things the southerners considered courtly and impressive which to them seemed garish and unnecessary. Aemon also met Eddard’s friend Lord Robert Baratheon, the man who had won some acclaim for leading the charge at the Sands in Dorne, the man was a big and strong, but a bit of an idiot who ogled Lyanna but did nothing more than that to her, still Aemon knew from Lyanna who had heard it from her brother that Robert was betrothed to Lady Cersei Lannister and the man had not the decency to honour the betrothal flirting with anything that moved and fucking it as well. Aemon knew that had he not been present Brandon would have done the same, but that he was here meant that his goodbrother controlled himself, otherwise he would have a case of sword through bowels.

The tourney itself was as impressive as had been promised. There was a singing competition; there was an archery competition that Barth won hands down as the best archer there. There was a melee that Barth one once more, using his anger as a way to best his opponents who were not used to Barth’s blitzkrieg style of fighting. Then came the jousting, Aemon’s goodbrother Brandon competed in the jousting making it to the semis before being unhorsed by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, who some were calling the hope of the south given his father’s apparent madness. Prince Rhaegar won the jousting and then did the unthinkable; he passed over his wife for the queen of love and beauty and placed the crown on Lyanna’s head. Aemon had seen red, and though his anger did not simmer as hot as Barth’s or Brandon’s at the insult and the disregard the Targaryen bastard had shown his wife and him, Aemon had remained calm and collected. Aemon had asked Lyanna why she had been chosen and then she had said that it had been her who had been the Knight of the Laughing Tree, the mystery knight whose head Aerys Targaryen had demanded, the knight who had beaten three knights of house Frey, house Blount and house Haigh for the actions of their squires in bullying Lord Howland Reed, who was a cousin of Aemon’s. Rhaegar Targaryen had apparently found her as she was removing her armour and they had spoken, and the prince had promised not to reveal her secret, but now he had gone too far. Still they remained for the dance and then Aemon had to leave for the north taking with him Ser Loras Manderly and Ser Marcus Locke, as he had been summoned by his father to deal with court business. He had wanted to bring Lyanna back north with him, ut she had asked to remain in the south to explore the southern kingdom and learn more of it from Eddard, Aemon had acquiesced.

He had picked up his son from Moat Cailin and then ridden back to Winterfell, and that was where he was sat in his father’s solar listening to Lords Rickard Karstark and Domeric Dreadstark arguing over some patch of land. “Karstarks have been using that land since the days of our founder Your Graces. Lord Dreadstark has impeded on it in his greed and lust for what is not his.”

Aemon’s father sighed and then asked. “Lord Dreadstark do you admit to doing this thing?”

Lord Domeric Dreadstark of course denied the accusations more fervently. “No Your Graces, I am simply using the lands that my father and his father before him have used to grow our crops and produce goods to sustain us through the winter that is sure to come. Lord Karstark simply has issue because he did not think to check a map to see where the lands fall.”

“Well then it is a good thing I did. Maester Aemon if you could.” Aemon heard his father ask. The old grand maester shuffled forward and placed the map on the table, and then Aemon’s father pointed at the land in question. “Aemon tell me what does this map say about the land that is being disputed?”

Aemon looks at where his father is pointing and then says. “The land borders the last river, and the lands belonging both to Karhold and the Dreadfort father. It has no clear lord and has never had any clear lord.”

“And what would that suggest to you then Aemon?” his father asked.

“That this land is under neither lord’s jurisdiction and is therefore open for them both to use as they see fit.” Aemon replied.

“Exactly.” His father says. “Now my lords, this land will be used by both of you for the producing of crops and the producing of foods for winter. I will hear no more arguments, we are northmen not southerners. Now if there is nothing more your case is dismissed and settled.”

The two lords grudgingly accept his father’s judgement and then bow and walk out. Once they are gone, Aemon’s mother walks in and Aemon’s father stands up and says. “I shall leave you two to speak.” He then walks out of his solar as if he’s on fire, Aemon frowns but says nothing. His mother sits where his father was sat just two minutes ago.

“So how was your trip south sweetling?” his mother asks him.

“It was interesting to say the least. The riverlands truly is a colourful and beautiful land mother. And the tourney itself was very good fun, Barth was unstoppable in the melee, and brought down men who had fought in Dorne. Of course Prince Rhaegar had to go and ruin it all by causing a scandal with crowning Lyanna.” Aemon says.

His mother smile sadly. “I know sweetling. Targaryens have never been known to think rationally at the best of times, what was the man to do when he laid eyes on your beautiful wife? Tell me why did Lyanna wish to remain behind in the south and not come back north with you? Does she not miss Benjen?”

“Oh she does mother truly she does. It’s just that she wanted to see more of the south, and well Brandon wished to see more of the Riverlands as well and so they agreed to travel the riverlands for some time and then they would return. She should be back in about two or three weeks.” Aemon replies. He then asks a question that has been bothering him for some time. “Mother, what has happened between you and father? You two seem a lot tenser around each other than you were before I left for Harrenhal.”

His mother sighs and then says. “I would say it was nothing, but I know you are too old and too smart to fall for that. It has something to do with a conversation your father had with Lord Borros.”

“I do not understand mother. What could a conversation between father and Lord Borros have to do with relations between yourself and father?” Aemon asks confused.

His mother sighs and then says. “Your father confronted Lord Borros about a rumour he had heard whilst marching back from the south some time ago. The rumour said that Lord Borros was in love with me, your father confronted him and asked him if the rumour was true. Lord Borros at first tried to wave the rumour off, but eventually admitted to it. He told your father that he does love me but that he will not act on his feelings so long as we all draw breath, but that he will not stop being my staunchest friend, ally and protector. Your father does not believe Borros and as such has said that he cannot come to Winterfell again unless the need is dire. Your father then asked me if I loved Lord Borros,” his mother takes a breath then.

“And what did you say mother?” Aemon asks suddenly needing to know the answer, needing to know that his mother is not about to leave them for some southern oaf.

His mother looks at him and says. “I told him that I am fond of Borros, and that he is a good friend of mine but that I would never do anything to betray the vows I swore before the heart tree to your father. I love your father with my hear Daemon, but Borros is a good friend, and I told Daemon he had no business sending Borros away from Winterfell like that.”

Aemon is about to reply in defence of his father when the door opens and his father walks in holding a letter and looking thunderous. “What is it father?” Aemon asks.

“Word from Moat Cailin,” his father says taking a deep breath, Aemon’s mother gets up from the chair and goes to his father and takes his hand and looks at him. King Daemon goes on. “It appears that Lord Brandon and Lyanna and their companions Kyle Royce, Donnor Fenn, Ethan Glover and Edrick Blackmyre were accosted whilst they were riding northwards from Riverrun, they were near the Green Fork when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his friends came and attacked Brandon and his party. Brandon’s companions were killed and Brandon himself was badly injured, Rhaegar Targaryen took Lyanna by force and rode south with her on his horse. Brandon was found by Walder Rivers and taken to the Twins for aid and then rode north once he was deemed fit to ride. Lyanna has been taken Aemon.”


	11. Twisting Your Mind, Smashing Your Dreams

**Lord Jon Arryn**

It had been sometime since he had been in King’s Landing, near enough ten years had passed since he had served as master of laws for King Aerys, and looking back on it all, he was glad that he had left when he had. He had heard the rumours that after Duskendale the king’s mental state had rapidly deteriorated and that he had become suspicious of all around him except the eunuch Lord Varys who served as his master of whispers and whispered in his ear about the lords who wanted to betray him. The king had ordered them to invade Dorne and though Jon had known what folly it was to attack Dorne especially with Gyles Stark still around, he had allowed men from his lords households to go and fight, Elbert had gone and fought and had come back a hero despite the failed campaign as had Robert and Denys.

The king’s mental state had supposedly gotten worse after the failed invasion of Dorne, it must have done for him to dismiss Tywin Lannister, or force Tywin Lannister to resign as hand of the king. In his time on the small council, Jon had observed Lord Tywin and had seen him to be a smart move with a keen grasp of the game that was being played. Jon knew the joke that it was the hand who had done most of the ruling and that Aerys was a figurehead, and for most of the time that had been true especially after Duskendale according to Jon’s sources at court, though Prince Rhaegar had started taking a much more active role in the running of the kingdom, in preparation for a supposed take over.

That was why the prince had called the tourney at Harrenhal, yes the ravens said Lord Whent had announced the tourney, but only after Ser Oswell Whent had gone to visit him and propose certain things to him. Ravens had flown from the eyrie to King’s Landing and from the Eyrie to Moat Cailin, and to Riverrun and to Casterly Rock. Prince Rhaegar had planned on using the tourney as a disguise for calling a great council together of the lords of the southern kingdom and some representation from the north, the prince had wanted to remove his father from the throne and have him installed by vote as the new King. That had been the plan and though Jon had warred with himself for many weeks before the tourney over whether or not he should attend, and whether or not he should allow Elbert and Denys to attend, due to the fact that what the Prince suggested was treason, he had eventually decided to attend when word came that King Aerys was to attend the tourney as well. It seemed the eunuch had whispered in his ear and convinced him to leave King’s Landing for the first time in five years.

And so a tourney that was supposed to be a disguise for a council ended up being a tourney in its own right. Lord Whent had outdone himself, there was much to be said for Whent and so the tourney had gone off relatively without scandal, Jaime Lannister at fifteen was raised to the Kingsguard and Tywin was notably absent from the proceedings. Of course Lady Cersei Lannister was not present at the tourney either, which was a shame, for Lord Tywin had been negotiating a betrothal with Jon for Robert to wed Cersei Lannister and make her Lady of Storm’s End eventually. Of course with Tywin not being there, Lady Cersei was not present either and Robert continued in his ways. Jon had tried to get him to show some discipline but to no avail. Still that was not why Jon remembered the tourney with so much dread, no it was the actions of Prince Rhaegar who had won the jousting on the final day, the Prince had ridden passed his own wife Princess Elia to place the crown of the queen of love and beauty on Ned’s sister Princess Lyanna. An action that was scandalous in the fact that not only was the prince married, but so too was Ned’s sister, to the Northern Crown prince Aemon, who had looked like he wanted to kill the Prince there and then. The Prince had left for the north with his brother soon after the tourney ended, and Ned and Robert returned to the Vale with Elbert and Denys, Jon remained behind to speak with Lord Brandon and Princess Lyanna, and to invite them to see the Vale at some point in the future.

And then news had come from the north a letter written in Lord Rickard Stark’s hand, Princess Lyanna and Lord Brandon had been riding back north, on the banks of the Green Fork when Prince Rhaegar and his companions, Ser Richard Lonmouth, Ser Jon Connington, Ser Myles Mooton, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent accosted the Princess and her party. The Princess was abducted by Prince Rhaegar and all save Lord Brandon were slain in their party. Jon had told Ned the news of his sister’s abduction and his ward had become very silent and solemn, and had gone to the godswood to pray for a long time. Eventually Ned had returned from his silence and had asked Jon what would happen now, Jon had answered honestly and said that he did not know what would happen. It would be up to King Daemon Stark and King Aerys Targaryen to negotiate the release of Princess Lyanna and to prevent another potential war.

It appeared as if the negotiations had failed, a raven had arrived some two weeks after the news of Ned’s sister’s abduction from King’s Landing, writ in the hand of King Aerys. The letter stated that Ned and Robert were threats to the safety of the Iron Throne and the realm and as such needed to be executed and tried for treason. The reasons the king provided were nonsensical and Jon refused to give into the demands, and so he had burned the letter and had written to Winterfell to inform King Daemon Stark of the situation, before he had called his own banners.

His lords had come, from Runestone the Royces Bronze Yohn and Nestor, from Strongsong Lord Belmore all the powerful and influential lords from the Vale had answered his call to arms, and they had come with their strength some 20,000 men to the Eyrie to plan their next move. Lords Grafton, Corbray, Waxley, Wydman and Melcolm had refused to answer Jon’s summons and as such had declared for the throne. They held Gulltown and as such something needed to be done about them. This was why Jon had asked for his lords to meet in his solar so they could discuss tactics.

Once all of his lords were seated as well as Robert, he asked Maester Coleman to close the door and he spoke. “My lords, I thank you for coming. As you know, King Aerys has made a demand for my two wards heads, Eddard is as we speak heading back to his home and will join with the northern army as it marches down from Moat Cailin. Robert here remains with us for the time being whilst Lord Grafton holds Gulltown and the port. I would hear your views on what you propose we do.”

As ever it was Lord Yohn Royce who spoke first. “I say we march on Gulltown and stick a sword up Grafton’s bunghole, begging your pardon my lord. What right does he have to refusing to give a ward of his liege lord entry to the port?”

Lord Benedar Belmore speaks then. “That the king has labelled Lord Robert a traitor and sheltering him an act of treason my lord of Royce. Lord Grafton has always been a cautious man; no doubt he hopes to get some sort of favour from the King by doing this. Though I do agree with you, I believe we must take Gulltown and defeat the royalists if we want to send a clear message.”

Lord Osgood Donniger speaks then. “Why not march on the Riverlands my lords? If Gulltown is blocked to us, then we can easily take what supplies we need from our own lands and then march west. Gulltown will cost us men, and we need all the men we can have. March on the Riverlands and Hoster Tully will join us.”

“If we do that, we leave our homes open to attack and plundering from the loyalists. Grafton might hold the port but Waxley and Wydman will want plunder from our own homes and lands. I will not let them take what is not theirs.” Lord Edgar Elesham said.

“How do you suggest we take Gulltown then? It has never been taken since the Andals built it all those thousands of years ago. Grafton will know its strengths and weaknesses better than we do.” Ser Symond Templeton asked.

“We take it by storm,” Robert said speaking up for the first time. “You say it has never been taken before, that’s because no one has tried to take it before. We take it by storm, with the element of surprise behind us and Grafton, Corbray and all those other Dragonspawn supporters will know what it means to refuse the Falcon.”

There was a general murmur then and then it was decided, they would launch an attack on Gulltown and they would take the city and force Grafton and his cohorts to bend the knee. The leaders of the rebel host were as follows, Jon took command of the reserve as was his right, Lord Yohn took control over the left, Lord Donniger took control of the right, Denys took control of the Van and Robert led the centre. They set off from the Eyrie one early morning during winter, and quick marched towards Gulltown arriving some five days later slightly tired but ready for war. As expected there were more men camped outside the town then inside and so Lord Yohn and Lord Donniger attacked those camped outside the city, whilst Robert and Denys led their men over the wall.

From where he was near the crest of the hill overlooking Gulltown he could hear the sound of steel on steel and the sound of men screaming and dying. Once he heard a horn being blown, he raised his sword and signalled the charge of the reserve. There was very little left for his own contingent of men to do once they descended down from the hill, the men camped outside the city had been killed or captured, and within the city itself there were only a few idiots who kept on fighting, Jon cut down three or four men before coming to castle Grafton, where in the courtyard he found Lords Yohn, Osgood, Denys and Robert all stood there their armour caked in blood and dirt, and Lords Corbray, Grafton and Wydman all bound and chained.

Jon dismounted and came to stand before his men. “How many losses?” he asked.

“5,000 my lord. They put up a decent fight.” Ser Denys Arryn replied.

Jon nodded and then looked towards Lord Grafton who was cowering near Robert. “Lord Grafton, you rebelled against your liege lord, and that has cost you the city. You shall let Lord Robert catch your fastest ship back to Storm’s End. And you shall add your strength to mine, and convince your allies to do the same. If you do not do this your life and that of your family’s shall be forfeit. Do you understand?”

Lord Grafton nodded and then stuttered out. “Yes my lord. Forgive me, my lord. My men and my city is yours.”

Jon nodded and then said. “And what of you Lords Corbray and Wydman, do you seek forgiveness for breaking your oath to me?”

“We did what was right my lord,” Lord Paxter Wydman says his voice dripping with anger. “Robert Baratheon is a traitor to the crown and needs to be handed in, we did what needed to be done for our king.”

“Are you refusing to recant for your crimes then?” Jon asked.

“No my lord, I am merely stating the facts. The king asked for his head and we were doing what needed to be done.” Wydman replies.

“We have a new king now,” Jon says. “You had best remember that.”

* * *

 

**King Daemon I Stark**

The crabs were eating at his stomach once more, it was a pain this dying business. The illness had taken effect shortly after his children had gone for a visit of White Harbour, before the news of his gooddaughter’s kidnapping had reached them. It was a strong pain in his stomach, a pinching pain, a constant source of agony for him, he could barely walk without aid and he could barely move without some sort of pain striking him. Maester Aemon had ordered him to remain in bed and so he had. He still dictated the ruling of the kingdom though; Aemon and Visenya merely made sure the decisions were enforced. But no matter how bad the pain was, he refused to die just yet, there was too much that needed to be done, and too much that he needed to live for to see. Lyanna needed to be brought back to Winterfell, his son needed his wife back and his grandson needed his mother back. And he would make sure he lived to see the end of the Targaryens.

Of course being bed ridden had given him plenty of time to think. He thought about his past, his relationships with his grandparents and his uncles and aunts, and cousins and brother. He missed his brother, Gyles was off in the south doing something or the other and had not visited Winterfell for some time, perhaps when Barth had been a lad, that was when Gyles had lasted visited them he was sure of it. Still his brother was a busy man, a young man as well, who was still as strong now as he was when he had been thirty or even twenty. Daemon had lost that strength whether it was when he had ridden north to crush a rebellion or whether it was when he had fought a giant or what, he knew not but his strength was leaving him. Still it had given him plenty of time to think back on what had happened in his life, and though he had some small regrets he regretted not making more of an effort early on in his marriage to Visenya, to get to know her and to make sure she knew she was cared for and loved.

Oh sure she knew he loved her something fierce now and he knew she loved him something fierce as well, but if he had not been so cold and resentful towards her in the early days of their marriage perhaps he would not have pushed her towards that oaf Borros Reyne. The man who was his wife’s closest friend, the person who got her the most, and the man who was in love with her. He had spoken with Reyne about some rumours he had heard some of the guardsmen and some of his other lords speaking about, that Lord Borros was in love with Visenya and that Visenya loved him back and that they were having an affair, at first Daemon had laughed it off and then when Rickon had come to him his eyes red and his face bloody saying that he had beaten up one of the lord’s sons for saying the rumours were true Daemon knew he had to speak with the man. So he had confronted the man, and had asked him directly whether or not he had feelings for Visenya, the man had had the audacity to try and brush the issue aside, but after Daemon had pushed him further, he had admitted to having feelings but saying that he would never act on them, but that he would never stop being Visenya’s most fervent protector.

Daemon had felt so much anger then, that he had told Borros Reyne to leave Winterfell and never come back unless it was for a war, he had said that so as not to kill the man where he stood. He had then cornered his wife and asked her about her feelings for Borros Reyne, and the painful thing was that, Visenya, his love, his Visenya had said that yes she was fond of Borros and that she might have feelings for him but she would never act on them whilst Daemon was still alive. That had been too much for him, and Daemon had been so tempted to ride to Long Lake and kill the bastard there and then, it was only his wife’s hands on his face and her words that kept him in Winterfell, she said she loved him with all her heart but she could not stop being friends with Borros. Daemon learned to let it go, but he would kill the bastard if he ever made so much as a move on Visenya, he cared not what either of them said, Borros Reyne was a southerner and had no honour.

There were other issues as well that Daemon had had plenty of time to think about whilst he was ordered to stay in bed. His gooddaughter had been kidnapped by the Targaryen crown prince, the scum of the earth had taken a princess of the north and Daemon had seen the effect that was having on his people and his family. His people wanted blood, they cried outrage for the killings of the northmen that had been with Lyanna and for the near killing of Brandon Stark, Daemon’s goodson. His family were shell shocked they were trying to deal with the fact that might not actually see Lyanna again, Aemon in particular seemed to have been torn by his wife’s kidnapping, he wanted blood and he wanted it somehow.

Daemon had been the voice of reason throughout all of this, sending ravens to King’s Landing to try and get the mad king to send his gooddaughter back to Winterfell safe and sound to her family where she belonged. The mad king had at first not bothered to reply and instead that fool Merryweather had replied giving false platitudes and offering false promises. And then Aerys Targaryen had written back personally, saying that ‘the dragon never bowed to the wolf, or a bastard wolf and that Lyanna Stark belonged to the dragon now.’ That along with his grandson Benjen’s constant crying for Lyanna and the fact that Aerys had demanded Rickard’s second son’s head had pushed Daemon over the line and he had called the banners.

His lords had come, Umber, Karstark, Dreadstark, Glover, Cassel, Blackwood, Reyne, Mormont, Hornwood, Dustin and Ryswell. Torrhen Thunderfist ever the loyal wildling had come as well bringing with him his 4,000 wildlings and 4 giants. Lords Manderly, Flint of Widow’s Watch, Royce of Shadow Point and Stark of Moat Cailin would join the army his son would be leading at Moat Cailin. But for now Daemon was being helped into his solar by Theo Norrey and Edrick Snow the Lord Commander of the Winter’s Guard. Once he was seated he bid his son and wife and his bannermen to be seated. Visenya sat beside him and took his hand under the table; he looked at her briefly and then cleared his throat and spoke. “I will not waste time stating the obvious; you know why you are here. The Targaryens have shown once more why they are not fit to be rulers of the south. We will get my gooddaughter back and show them once and for all that the North Remembers and that we will be acting for good now.” There was a large murmur of agreement there and then Daemon continued. “As much as it pains me to admit it I am too ill to march south, otherwise I would be leading the charge into the Red Keep myself. But alas I am old now and my body has told me no. Still my son and heir Prince Aemon shall lead the northern forces in my absence. My wife and Queen Visenya shall head south as well. Maester Aemon has the raven been dispatched to Pyke?”

The maester nods and says. “It has Your Grace, and Lord Balon‘s reply came through this morning. He has mobilised the full might of the Iron Islands and the Iron Fleet, and is sailing for the Reach as we speak. He has promised that the Redwyne Fleet will never leave the Arbor.”

Daemon nods then and says. “That is good, that is very good. Now Lord Cassel I trust the western fleet is under good hands in your absence?”

“It is Your Grace. My brother Rodrick is holding down the western fleet, and he knows what to do when needed.” Lord Martyn Cassel replies.

Daemon nods and then asks. “Has there been any word of what Lord Arryn and Lord Baratheon have been doing since the ravens of Aerys madness finally got out?”

At this Daemon’s son and heir Aemon speaks. “There has been Your Grace. Lord Arryn called his banners, and Lords Grafton, Corbray, Wydman and Waxley rebelled against his command and made base at Gulltown. Lord Arryn led his men there and there was fighting. The city belongs to Lord Arryn and his men now, and those lords that rebelled against Lord Arryn’s command have now rejoined the fold and are fighting for Arryn once more. Lord Robert managed to get onto a ship at Gulltown and is now sailing for Storm’s End.”

“No doubt the man will call his banners and seek to move to the Riverlands to meet with Lord Arryn and the Valemen. Though of course the Martells and their bannermen will be a problem for our young stag, unless the boy has sense enough to attack Summerhall first and take their strength away from them. Now the question is what will make the Riverlands turn on the Targaryens. Lord Tully bears no love for me or for us northmen, not after all the hidings he has taken, perhaps Lord Arryn will be smart enough to suggest a marriage between his heir and the eldest  Tully girl, what was her name Aemon?”

“Catelyn father, her name was Catelyn.” Aemon says.

“Ah yes that’s the one. Perhaps that will bring Tully onto our side. If not then we can always move our force into the Riverlands and bring the giants with us. That will be enough to cause Tully to think twice about siding with the Targaryens.” Daemon says.

Lord Galbart Glover speaks then. “Is that a wise move Your Grace? Bringing the giants south with the troops. Would it not be better to keep them here in the north and only send them south if needed?”

“It might be wiser, but it might also be wiser to keep Rhaegon Blackfyre as well, and yet he is to fight in the south. The giants will be what give us the lords of the riverlands, they will think their southern gods are bringing a reckoning down upon them, and the giants will have orders to kill any southerner who does march beside them. That will bring us more men and less hassle.” Daemon says. “Now, I want you all to march on the morrow, Lord Walder will be expecting you and the giants soon enough.” With that he ends the council meeting and is helped back to his bed, and once inside the bed he takes a sip of wine and takes Visenya into his arms when she sits on the bed. “My love, oh my love.” Daemon breathes into her hair.

“Are you in pain at all my love?” Visenya asks concern on her face.

“There are crabs in my belly that are dancing the death dance my love. I cannot hold on forever. You must make sure that Aemon lives, and that you live too, for I could not bear to lose you as well. I need you here; I need you more than I could ever say Visenya. Bring Lya back home and come home to me.” Daemon says kissing his wife’s face as he says so.

Visenya pulls back for a moment and looks at him with such a tender expression that he thinks his heart will melt. “I will come back with Lya and Aemon and Barth. But you must get better my love, we all need you still. Get better and I shall get us justice and revenge for Maelys, for Cregan and for all the northmen who have ever died at the hands of the Targaryens.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. A Man's Wrath

**Lord Robert Baratheon**

He was a rebel and a traitor according to the will of Mad King Aerys, the raven had come some five moons ago, King Aerys Targaryen who had been his father’s cousin had in his paranoia declared Robert and Ned traitors to the crown and had demanded of Jon Arryn their foster father, that he send their heads to King’s Landing as a sign of fealty. There had been rumours for many years now that the King was not sane, that he had not been since his ordeal at Duskendale, and as far as Robert was concerned this was just another example of the madness that the King and his bloody family were capable of. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had shown another example of the foolishness that could hit the House Targaryen when he had absconded with Ned’s married sister, Princess Lyanna Stark.  Robert had met Princess Lyanna and had heard stories of her stubbornness and wilfulness from Ned and he knew that she would have put up a fight before allowing Rhaegar bloody Targaryen to take her away from her husband and son, that the prince had taken her without her consent was obvious and it made Robert angry, by what right had that bloody idiot cousin of his done that?

Jon had refused to follow King Aerys order and had called his banners in rebellion against the crown. Ned had taken a ship from one of the northern outposts of the Vale to the Three Sisters to the north where he would march with his cousin’s army. Robert had intended to sail from Gulltown, but the fool Grafton had declared for the Targaryens and had blockaded the city and prevented ships from leaving.  And so after some small deliberation the Eyrie those lords who had answered Jon’s call to arms had marched on Gulltown and a battle had been fought. Robert had had one previous experience of proper battle, not like the minor scuffles with the mountain clans that had been organised by Jon when he and Ned had been growing up, but actual proper war where the other side were trying to kill you. And that had been at Dorne, his father and mother had just recently died and he as Lord of Storm’s End and cousin to the crown prince had been expected to call the banners of the Stormlords and march south to Dorne. He had done so and that Ned had come with him had been a bonus. Dorne had been interesting the women were loose as anything he had ever seen and the fighting had been so fulfilling, he had never felt so alive.

That feeling had returned during the battle of Gulltown, Robert had been one of the first men over the walls of Gulltown and had swung his war hammer like a man possessed swinging it right, left and centre, killing men with only one or two blows. He had felt like a god of war, never before had he felt so much power and strength, watching as the men fell before him and knowing that he was leading men to victory, had given him cause for celebration. He had slain Ser Marq Grafton one of the finest fighters in the Vale, had slain Lord Desmond Waxley and killed many other nameless and faceless men during the battle, and at the end of it all Lord Perros Grafton had surrendered and the city had become theirs. Grafton, Corbray, Waxley and Wydman as well as their bannermen all bent the knee to Jon and were welcomed back into the peace of the Vale, adding some 10,000 men to the forces Jon had managed to muster.

Before Robert had departed for Storm’s End Jon had called a meeting of the lords of the Vale, and they had debated their next move of action, they were now all officially rebels against the crown, and given Prince Rhaegar’s actions it would make little sense to see him seated on the throne, and so the Lords of the Vale had named Robert their chosen king. He had felt honoured and also a tad surprised by the move, though he had promised them all, Jon in particular that he would fight and win the war and do them all proud and honour their oaths of fealty, he still could not help the feeling that perhaps they were putting their trust in him too much but he would strive to make to feel worthy of that trust.

He had arrived at Storm’s End after a three week long journey in which the ship he had travelled on had done all it could to make sure that they avoided the patrols that King Aerys had ordered of the narrow sea, and when the royal fleet itself had appeared to stop ships from sailing close to King’s Landing, Robert had thought for certain that his life was about to end. Lord Vaemond Velaryon had appeared on the ship that Robert had been on, and though Robert had done his best to hide, he could have sworn Velaryon had looked right at him and had acknowledged him, that he had not done anything when Robert had clearly been present, made Robert think that perhaps Velaryon wanted him to succeed. As such, Robert had made a note to reward Velaryon if he emerged out of this war successful and alive.

Storm’s End itself was unchanged, the castle was still tall and imposing, Maester Cressen was still there fretting like an old woman when Robert arrived in the place, asking after his health and all these other things that Robert considered of little consequence considering the key issue that was at hand, the need to call the banners and the need to win the war. His brothers were the same as well, Stannis was grim and somber and still had that gods damned habit of grinding his teeth in frustration whilst Renly was a ball of energy, excited by the war that was supposed to be raging around them and wanting to know more and more of what was happening.

Robert had asked Stannis to come to his solar today, as he was about to ride off to war on the morrow his banners had come, Lords Estermont, Tarth, Musgood, Toyne, Errol and Peesbury had all answered his call to arms. Lords Martell, Dayne, Cafferen, Grandison and Fell had not, and so it was to Summerhall he would march to bring the hammer of justice down on them. Stannis entered the solar looking grim as always. Robert nodded for Stannis to sit down and then asked. “What has gotten you in such a big knot brother? I don’t think I’ve seen you look so grim for so long before.”

“I was speaking to our uncle Eldon just now and he was speaking about when they make you king what sort of privileges he hopes to get from you. I have to ask brother, why are you fighting a war over some foreign woman who is not even your betrothed or your wife? Why are you fighting a war for the northmen? Against our rightful king as well?” Stannis asked.

Robert wanted to bellow at Stannis but then sighed and said. “I did not wish to get involved with the business with Princess Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar, but King Aerys forced my hand when he called for my head. He gave some bullshit reason for it, when in actual fact he is a mad man and has been for some time. Westeros cannot afford to have a mad man on the throne anymore, the Targaryens have shown just how unsuited they are for power, and besides Prince Rhaegar is not like to be any better than his father. So the lords of the Vale have declared for me, and are marching for Riverrun as we speak. Also we must honour father’s memory Stannis, we cannot allow Rhaegar or Aerys to remain on the throne when they have so abused their duty.”

His brother sighed and then asked. “I suppose you are right brother. But what would you have of me then?”

Robert smiled at his brother then and said. “I need you to hold Storm’s End for me Stannis. I know you might want to come and fight, but I would trust no one else with holding our home against the dragon followers who might try and take it. Cressen knows nothing of war, Uncle Harbert is an old man. Renly is but a boy. I need you to hold Storm’s End for me, and when this war is done, Storm’s End shall be yours.”

Stannis is silent for a moment before he says. “Then I shall hold it, or die trying to. The Targaryens shall not get Storm’s End whilst breath still holds in my body Your Grace.”

Robert smiles and then the next day he rides out with his army, numbering some 10,000 strong they ride for Summerhall where Princess Loreza Martell has assembled her banners, numbering some 12,000 men. Lord Peesbury said that as well as Lords Cafferen, Dayne, Grandison and Fell, Lords Swann, Selmy and Connington would have rallied for the Martells due to their Targaryen connection. Robert means to be lenient with the Martells following this battle but he must have Summerhall. When they arrive at the outskirts of Summerhall, Robert sees the Targaryen banner flapping proudly next to the Sun and Spear of House Martell. Robert calls a halt to his men’s advance, and then nods to Ser Desmond Peesbury who brings a war horn to his lips thus signalling the beginning of the battle.

As any true leader would Robert has command over the vanguard of his host and it is the vanguard that engages with the Martell host first. Robert brings his war hammer up and then brings it crashing down onto a man bearing the arms of House Martell on his armour. He brings it up again and again, and laughs at the sound of the hammer smashing into the enemies armour, his hammer crushes breastplates, crushes chests and breaks bones and he rides on. Smashing and breaking what appears to be the centre of the Martell host, his hammer brings down Lord Fell, the man’s helmet smashed to pieces; the man’s face a bloody ruin. Robert knocks out Silveraxe the man’s son and has him captured.

The charge continues Robert smashes through the Martell host, breaking the centre, with Lord Fell dead, Silveraxe captured and Ser Andros Caron slain, the centre breaks and flees only to be smashed to pieces by the pressing left of Robert’s host led by Eldon Estermont. When he sees the right of his host break against the shield wall of the Martell spears, he raises his hammer high into the air and signals for the men under his command to break from the battle and wheel around Summerhall. They do so at a rapid pace with Robert crushing those who come into his way, a Martell or two might have been killed as well.

He does not have time to worry about the men he left behind, they are under the command of Lord Eldon Estermont, they will be fine, they know they are to keep the battle going, eventually the Martells will break and Summerhall will fall. For now he needs to make sure the Tyrells do not come to reinforce the Martells, and so he force marches his men to Ashford. They arrive at Ashford just as the sun is rising some three days later, his men are tired and exhausted and that is perhaps the reason for why they do not think to send scouts out to assess the perimeter. It is that, that allows Lord Randyll Tarly to lead his 15,000 strong hosts behind them and attack them from the rear.

Though he is bone tired and will perhaps die from the injuries he sustained at Summerhall, Robert raises his war hammer and mounts his horse and swings his war hammer with as much strength as he can muster. He manages to kill the Lord of Bitterbridge, and kills a man he will later learn is Lord Tarly’s uncle, he keeps swinging his hammer until the strength leaves his body and his wounds become too much. “Your Grace,” Ser Desmond Peesbury says. “They have too many men, we must head north.” Robert nods and Peesbury bellows his commands and they ride as hard as they can for the north and the Riverlands where the northmen and the Valemen will be waiting for them.

They arrive at the Stoney Sept broke and tired some four days later, Robert limping into the nearest brothel and passing out from tiredness.

* * *

 

**Lord Perwyn Osgrey**

Perwyn remembered the tales he had heard growing up, of how House Osgrey had once been a great house, second only to the Gardeners before the dragons came. How his house had been the stuff of kings, and how the Gardener kings had valued his house above all else. Then the dragons came and the Gardeners died and the Tyrells came to power, and House Osgrey fell in influence, as first one then another and then another Targaryen King continued to listen to the poison the Tyrells continued to whisper into their ears about their bannermen apart from the Hightowers. The revival of House Osgrey had only truly begun under Perwyn’s great grandfather Lord Addam Osgrey, a man who had been a fighter and a cunning politician, assessing the risks and then acting on them, a man who Perwyn had aspired to be in his own dealings. The revival began with the reclaiming of Coldmoat and then rebuilding of Leafy Lake, and that was done under Addam Osgrey, Perwyn’s own grandfather Harrold Osgrey had done more to strengthen the Osgrey position ending the Rowan dominance over the Golden Area of the Reach, bringing the gold mines and the reserves under Osgrey control through his marriage to Lord Rowan’s daughter, and when Lord Rowan and his sons had died during the war in Dorne, Perwyn’s brother Eustace had been given Goldengrove by the order of King Aegon.

All this was what his own family had done and achieved, they had worked hard for what they had, not like those oafish Tyrells who had gotten the jackpot with Highgarden simply because their ancestor had had the good sense to surrender to Aegon the Dragon. When the Black Dragon had risen and the Winter Dragon had stirred, the Reach had suffered under the Tyrells, raids that saw gold and wealth taken from the Reach happened under the Tyrells watch, and whilst this was happening the Tyrells tried and failed to play the game of thrones in King’s Landing. Well now the dragons were on their last legs and the Tyrells were falling with them as well, Perwyn was determined to make that happen. The Tyrells led by that shrew Olenna Redwyne and the oaf Mace Tyrell, were determined to run the Reach into the ground with their determination to get one of their blood onto the throne, a barbed throne run by madmen and monsters.

Perwyn did not think of himself as a bitter man, no that had been his father Ser Osgood Osgrey had died fighting for the King in Dorne during the first invasion of Dorne, and had not done well. Osgood Osgrey had been an angry man who had lived in the shadow of the great Harrold Osgrey, Perwyn’s father had been weak instead of trying to carve something for himself out of the legacy of their forebearers he had drunk and whored his way through the legacy and then died before Lord Harrold Osgrey had. Perwyn had never respected his father considering him to be a spot of dirt on the great Osgrey legacy and so had taken lessons from his grandfather and had acted accordingly. He did all he could to make sure his family, his children and his own brothers and sisters were provided for. His son and heir Wilbert was a strong and promising knight, a beast with Weeping Wonder in his hand and a shrewd thinker who had suggested sending for the Golden Company. Perwyn’s second son Harrold was more of a bookish lad,  but was smart nonetheless and had used his contacts in the citadel to get the Hightowers to act out of their more placid state when it came to conflict. And his daughter Michelle, his daughter would be the finest woman the Reach had ever seen, cunning, beautiful and smart she would put Tywin Lannister’s daughter to shame when she grew into her womanhood.

When news had reached Coldmoat of the taking of Lyanna Stark Perwyn had felt that vindication in his belief that the Targaryens were finished, Prince Rhaegar had shown his true madness and would be ended by Prince Aemon Stark sooner or later. There had been fighting in Vale, Jon Arryn had broken the loyalist lords and brought them under his wing once more. Robert Baratheon had beaten the Martell host at Summerhall and then weakened the Tyrell Van at Ashford. And Robert’s brother Stannis had slaughtered what men had been left of the Martell host that had not retreated behind closed doors of Summerhall, and the Reachmen that had remained in the Stormlands following Mace Tyrell’s retreat back into the Reach had also been killed by Stannis Baratheon.  Mace Tyrell had declared for the Targaryens and when the raven had come to Coldmoat Perwyn had burnt the letter and sent to Tyrosh where the Golden Company were residing he had sent to Dorne, and so they had arrived.

Other houses had joined Perwyn in rebelling against the Reach, the Florents and their allies had fought a battle against a Hightower host led by Ser Baelor Hightower at the Honeywine and though the Florents had not actually managed to win the battle- not that Perwyn had expected them to- they had managed to significantly reduce the threat of the Hightowers, half the Hightower strength had been killed on the Honeywine following Baelor Hightower to retreat back to Oldtown and have his father close the gates of the city. There had also been fighting in the sea between the Iron Fleet and the Redwyne Fleet. Without the Royal fleet there to help him, Paxter Redwyne had once again been shown up as the buffoon that he was. The Ironborn fleet captained by Victarion Greyjoy had smashed the Redwyne Fleet breaking them in half, and then the Great Kraken fleet led by Balon Greyjoy had come in and destroyed what was left of the Redwyne Fleet, killing Paxter Redwyne and his uncles, and the Arbor was now under Greyjoy occupation.

Those two battles had caused Mace Tyrell to turn tail and retreat from trying to lay siege to Storms’ End and together with Randyll Tarly the oaf of Highgarden had taken his remaining forces back into the Reach. Of course at present he was still near Bitterbridge and would more than likely be a long while before reaching his seat. That was why Perwyn had called for a meeting of his allies both in the Reach and from the Golden Company and Dorne to discuss their next move. They were all gathered in the command tent, the sound of the Mander running past them creating a soothing effect to the nerves that Perwyn felt. The men gathered in the tent were all experienced warriors and men who knew what war was, other than Perwyn there was his brother Eustace, now Lord of Goldengrove, there was Lord Arwyn Oakheart, Lord Stevron Costayne, Lord Osmund Peake, Lord Gyles Stark and Prince Jonnel Stark. “My lords, we all know why we are here. The Tyrells allies are broken or retreated. And yet we face a challenge from the Fossoways and from the Merryweathers who are marching together as we speak. Mace Tyrell himself marches with some 40,000 men from Bitterbridge. I would have your opinion on whether we march for Bitterbridge and deal with Tyrell now or if we deal with the Fossoways?”

Prince Jonnel Stark the most experienced warrior present in the tent spoke then and all were silent to listen to him. “I suggest going for the Fossoways my lords. We cannot leave ourselves open to attack from the rear. Attack them on the Roseroad and they shall fall and the Tyrells will break.”

There was a general murmur of agreement and then it was decided. They would march for the Roseroad on the morrow, preparations were made and command posts were assigned for the host that Perwyn had managed to assemble. Numbering some 20,000 men along with the 10,000 members of the Golden Company and the 15,000 Dornishmen led by Lord Gyles Stark, they outnumbered the Fossoways and would likely outnumber the Tyrells. It was decided that Perwyn’s host and the Golden Company would march out to face the Fossoways with the Dornish host being saved for when they marched on Highgarden.

The morrow came and with it came battle, Perwyn and his men marched froth from where they were camped and marched down the Roseroad to the southern exit where they knew the Fossoways would come and attack them. Sure enough a horn was sounded and the Fossoways numbering some 4,000 strong came marching down from their halls of Cider and the battle began. Perwyn had fought in many battles in his time and he had learnt early on that it was better to allow your opponent to over exert himself trying to get you than to allow yourself to be pushed too hard. And so that was what he did, each man that came at him he allowed them to swing at him, sometimes allowing their blows to hit his armour or helm, other times he would block their blows with his sword, and other times he would fight back. When he was certain the opponents were tired, he shrugged off his defences and began an all out attack. Swinging his sword left, right and centre he cut through one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine and then ten men and then the battle continued.

The Fossoway host was scattered across the southern fort of the Roseroad, being cut down by his men, the Golden Company would more than likely not be needed now. A horn sounded and the Merryweather host came crawling in, only to be slaughtered by Perwyn’s men. Perwyn continued swinging his sword, cutting men down like flies. His sword and armour were drenched in blood whether it was his own or that of his foes he could not remember all he knew was that he had to keep going. Slashing and hacking through the foe, he killed a man he recognised as Lord Fossoway, and then killed another man he recognised as Ser Adam Fossoway of the Green Apple Fossoways. The fighting continued, and then it ended with the last Fossoway soldier being killed. The Battle of the Roseroad had ended in victory for the Osgreys and they, themselves had only lost some 3,000 men.

It was decided at the war council a day later that they would march for Highgarden, and draw Mace Tyrell towards his home, the Company would then attack his host from the rear whilst the Dornishmen attacked from the left. And so they marched from the Roseroad to Highgarden where they began preparing for a siege, the catapults were put in place and boulders and trebuchets were constructed, but none were fired. The only firing that happened was the arrows that were unleashed to prevent the maester at Highgarden from sending away his ravens. Three days after the Siege of Highgarden had begun, the Tyrell host emerged, and they seemed tired no doubt the company had done its job well. The battle was short and sweet, the Tyrell host was tired and wounded and seemed unable to do much more than defend themselves from the onslaught that Perwyn and the Dornishmen gave them. Perwyn killed more men that day than he had perhaps killed in his whole life, swinging his sword left and right, bathing the ground in front of Highgarden in blood and bodies.

It was Wilbert who managed to end the battle when he brought Mace Tyrell before Perwyn bound in chains, bloody and beaten but still alive. Perwyn looked at Mace Tyrell spat at him and then said. “What do I owe the pleasure Lord Mace?”

Mace Tyrell was silent for a moment and then said. “I surrender my lord. Highgarden is yours as is the Reach. But do not think that House Tyrell is done, we will continue to grow strong.”

Perwyn snorted. “You might, but you will never survive through the winter. Nor what I have in store for you. Now tell your maester to open the gates.”

And so the gates of Highgarden opened and Perwyn Osgrey and his sons and brothers and men rode into the great castle of the Tyrells and before them the Gardeners the seat of power in the Reach, they rode in victors. The battle of Highgarden ended on the fourth day of the seventh month of the 283rd year after Aegon’s Landing. A house had fallen a new one had emerged more powerful than before.


	13. See Sorrow Where It Lies

**Ser Stannis Baratheon**

It had been a whole year since Robert had returned to Storm’s End and called the banners, a whole year in which the kingdoms had been embroiled in a war the scale of which had not been seen since the fifth Blackfyre war some thirty years ago. Robert’s head had been called for by King Aerys, and though Robert was only friends with Eddard Stark whose sister had been taken by Prince Rhaegar, the King had thought that enough reason to call Stannis’ elder brother a traitor and demand his head. Robert’s foster father had refused to hand Robert over and so had called his banners. After the battle of Gulltown Robert had returned home, called his banners and then marched on Summerhall to deal with the Martells and those other lords who had not answered his call to arms. Robert had asked him to hold Storm’s End for him and so he had through thick and thin he had promised Robert that he would hold Storm’s End for him and that he would not let the Tyrells, the Martells or the Targaryens take their home from them.

It had been one of the hardest decisions Stannis had ever had to make in his life, deciding whether or not he owed more loyalty to his older brother and liege lord or to King Aerys who was his father’s cousin and also his king. It had taken Stannis much consideration and a few choice words with his great uncle Harbert before he had made up his mind, blood was thicker than water after all that was what his mother had often said to him, and so Stannis had resolved to make sure that he gave two hundred percent for Robert. His brother had made it look easy though, he had fought in Dorne whilst Stannis had stayed behind and looked after Storm’s End, Robert had won acclaim as the Demon of the Sands for his prowess in Dorne, outshining the crown prince, and now he was winning battles with his war hammer and bringing enemies into allies.

Word had trickled through from the front, Stannis had heard of the battle of Summerhall, and how Robert had managed to break the Martell host that had numbered some 12,000 men and had shattered their defence on the walls of Summerhall, but the right of his host had broken and so Robert had led the remenants of his own host to Ashford where they had managed to cause some damage to the vanguard of the advancing Tyrell host. Robert had then moved north to meet up with his allies in the Riverlands. Where a marriage pact had been sealed. The northern army had marched south 25,000 strong including wildlings and giants if Robert’s letter could be believed. Robert’s foster father had arrived with some 20,000 men from the Vale as well and in order to convince Hoster Tully to join them in waging war against the Targaryens, Jon Arryn’s heir Elbert Arryn had wed Lysa Tully and Stannis himself had been betrothed to Catelyn Tully, a girl who was said to be very beautiful young lady and smart. Not that Stannis particularly cared he would do his duty and be done with it.

With the Tullys on their side the northmen and the Valemen had marched for the Stoney Sept where Robert had hidden in order to preserve himself from the wrath of the new hand of the king Jon Connington. Who had come looking for him with a vengeance and as such had been searching from door to door and had nearly found Robert when his allies had arrived and a fierce fight had ensured. In his letter Robert said that it was Prince Aemon Stark and his foster father who had won that battle for him, Robert himself had killed one of Prince Rhaegar’s cousins Ser Desmond Osgrey from the Leafy Lake Osgreys and had managed to severly wound Lord Connington himself, though Connington had managed to retreat back to King’s Landing. Robert had written that they were marching for the Trident in order to get a better scope of how things stood and try and prevent Rhaegar from coming up to deal with them should he make it to King’s Landing. Robert had not made their plans so evident, yet Stannis knew his brother well enough to know that that was what he was planning; always one for the bold approach was Robert.

Whilst he had been reading his brother’s letter, Stannis had not forgotten that at the end of this all Robert could be king. It seemed that Lord Arryn’s words at Gulltown had become common agreement, Hoster Tully and his bannermen had declared for Robert as king as well as Lord Arryn’ and his bannermen. Meaning that Robert now had three of the five great houses support for the Iron Throne. Soon enough it seemed as if he would become King, especially considering he was betrothed to Cersei Lannister as well, though Tywin Lannister had not done anything to suggest he remembered the betrothal.

Stannis himself had been rather busy as well, he had held Storm’s End but then when the Tyrell host led by Mace Tyrell had come a knocking through the Stormlands, ending the siege of Summerhall by slaughtering the men led by his uncle Eldon Estermont and they had then advanced close to Storm’s End when Tyrell had retreated back to the reach for some reason or the other, though he had left about 500 men under the command of his uncle Ser Meryn Tyrell to go on with the siege of Storm’s End. Stannis had learnt of this and then taking what men his brother had left at Storm’s End, numbering some 2,000 he had marched out from Storm’s End and in a fierce storm had led the slaughter of the Reachmen left behind. He had made sure each reachmen was dead before ordering the attack to stop, those in command of the Reach army had their heads mounted on spikes and placed in front of Storm’s End. They were traitors and now the Tyrells had fallen to the Osgreys, Highgarden belonged to them.

The Tyrells might have been dealt with but there were still loyalist houses in the Stormlands that could cause problems in the future and that could bolster whatever forces the Targaryens eventually mustered to deal with Robert and his allies. And so Stannis had summoned what men he now had left, 700 men in total and had led the charge from Storm’s End to take the lightly held Bronzegate and Felwood followed by Grandview. With those castles under his control, the remaining Stormlords who had hovered between uncertainty and neutrality during the early stages of the war now declared for Robert and added what little strength they had to his, thus giving him the 700 men he now had.

As it was he had called a war council to discuss their next move of action. Stannis found himself in the lord’s solar in Grandview where Lord Orys Grandison had until a year ago sat and waited for the lords to come in. The door opened and they did, Ser Marcus Tarth the second best knight in the Stormlands, Silveraxe Fell, the new Lord Grandison and finally Lord Edrick Massey. Once they were all seated Stannis spoke. “My lords I thank you for coming, you know why we are here. We hold the loyalist castles closest to Summerhall now, and as such have depleted House Martell of any potential reinforcements. With Lord Perwyn Osgrey establishing control over the Reach and the Tyrells broken, aid for Summerhall grows weaker each and every day. I would hear your views on where you think we should head next.”

Ser Marcus Tarth a big brute of a man spoke then. “Well with Lord Jon Connington having been exiled from Westeros for his failure in the battle of the bells, his cousin Ser Ronald Connington is know the head of the house. However, the man has lost his lands to Aerys madness. Therefore I believe Griffin’s Roost will not be necessary to nullify the threat. Summerhall will however need to be taken. Loreza Martell commands significant support and her daughter is still in King’s Landing, she will fight till the bitter end.”

Silveraxe spoke then. “What Ser Marcus says make sense. However, we still don’t know which way Ser Ronald will run. The man’s cousin was fanatically loyal to Prince Rhaegar and the Targaryens. Who is to say that the man himself is not? Besides if we take Griffin’s Roost we win the alliance of the Mistwood and Rainwood houses in one fell swoop. We would be foolish to leave ourselves undefended in that region.”

Lord Massey spoke then his voice soft. “Ser Ronald Connington might be more willing to listen to sense if we have something to offer him. A marriage perhaps?”

“Who would you suggest Lord Edrick?” Ser Marcus asks. “After all our King is betrothed to Cersei Lannister and Lord Stannis is betrothed to Lady Catelyn Tully. Lord Renly is an option but he is too young to seriously consider surely?”

“Connington will be more likely to consider coming into the fold if his daughter is wed into the new royal family my lords. Otherwise he will call more men and attack us. We need his men to attack Summerhall, or not even his men but more his neutrality.” Lord Edrick reasons.

Stannis speaks then. “Very well, send a raven to Ser Ronald and offer him this betrothal. Should he accept I shall bring it up with Robert once the war is won? Should he refuse he will be crushed once this war is won. Now we must discuss Summerhall. What are its strengths at present?”

Lord Steffon Grandison spoke then. “Apart from its walls and its terraces, there are no strengths my lord. Summerhall has no men, apart from a mere garrison made up of old men and green boys. The majority of the fighting strength headed north with Lord Randyll Tarly and Prince Oberyn when they rode north for the Trident.”

Stannis nods and then says. “Very well Lord Grandison, send out a raven to Ser Ronald tonight, and tomorrow we march for Summerhall and we shall take it by force if needs be.”

The next day they ride out as the mists are beginning to appear, the snow on the ground is heavy and their horses stumble once or twice, but they made it easily enough to Summerhall, where they found a bigger host than expected waiting for them outside the castle walls. And leading them was Prince Doran Martell, the Prince rode forward with a banner of parlay. He spoke slowly. “Lord Stannis.”

“Prince Doran,” Stannis said. “I have come to take Summerhall for my brother King Robert Baratheon.”

“And I am afraid that I must refuse to that request my lord. House Martell will hold Summerhall for the Targaryens and the rightful king until we are asked to stand down. Not before and not otherwise.” Prince Doran replies almost sadly.

“Then you shall be destroyed my prince. And none shall be left alive to mourn the dead.” Stannis promises.

“Then that is a risk I am willing to take my lord.” Prince Doran says before he turns his horse around and rides back into the foray of his men.

Stannis turns his own horse around and rides back to his men, nodding to Ser Marcus to sound the horn and the second battle for Summerhall begins. The fighting is quick and fast, Stannis slashes through man after man cutting them down like they are nothing more than sacks of meat, hacking, slashing and cutting, their screams fill his ears and fill his mind driving all other thought from his mind. He continues fighting and killing, his sword is stained red from the effort, but still more and more men come at him and his own men, his men are dying quicker than they are killing the enemy. _There are too many of them._ He thinks, his thoughts proved right when the right of the host breaks and Lord Edrick Massey’s head goes flying past Stannis.

Suddenly just as it seems as if the attack might have been a bad idea, a surprise host from the south attacks the Martell host in the rear, an attack that catches both sides by surprise considering these men are flying and wearing Baratheon colours. Stannis knows not where these men have come from but he is not about to complain about the aid they are giving him, not when they are inspiring his remaining men to keep fighting. He pushes on and continues hacking and slashing his way through the Martell host driving and pushing his way through until he breaks into the castle, Ser Marcus Tarth and many others on his heels.

He kills the guards on the doors of the Princess Loreza Martell and storms into her room covered in blood and dirt, and place the head of Ser Manfrey Martell at her feet. The Princess looks at him from where she is sat and says simply. “Well then Lord Stannis I suppose Summerhall is yours.”

* * *

 

**Lady Ashara Dayne**

There had been times in the past two years where she had really had difficulty believing that Harrenhal had actually happened, it seemed so much like a dream if she was being truly honest with herself, and Ashara Dayne had never been one for believing in dreams, not since her mother had died. Harrenhal, it had all been planned Elia had told her by Rhaegar Targaryen and his friends, or rather his cronies as she had come to think of them, Ser Oswell Whent, Myles Mooton, Richard Lonmouth, Jon Connington and her own brother Ser Arthur Dayne. They had been the architects behind ensuring Harrenhal was planned and occurred, for two years after the failed invasion of Dorne they had planned it all.

And then Aerys had attended and ruined Rhaegar’s carefully laid plans, and the northerners had come down from their distant kingdom and Ashara had lost her heart. She had met Eddard Stark during one of the many feasts that had been held during the tourney, his brother Brandon, confident and bold as brass Brandon Stark who had turned quite a few heads during the tourney had come up to her and asked her if she would like to dance with his younger brother who was to nervous and shy to ask her himself. Intrigued Ashara had agreed and now looking back on it all she was glad that she had consented to dancing with Ned. Ned was not like most other men who Ashara had known, he was quiet and shy and rarely talked during their dance, he was not even that good of a dancer, though he was very nice and pleasant and thanked her for the dance afterwards. Her usual charms had not worked on him during the dance; she had been unable to get more than two words out of him during their dance, which had only made her more determined to get to know him.

And so after that first dance, she had made sure to seek him out at the feasts that were held during the tourney, she would often speak to him when he was with his brother or goodbrother or friend Robert, but often she would catch him as he was walking by himself through the vast halls that were Harrenhal. It was during these times that Ashara truly came to know Eddard Stark, or as well as someone could come to know a  person during a week. They spoke of many things, such as their homes, what their lives were like and what they expected of themselves in the future. Ashara had come to find that she quite liked Ned, she liked the way he spoke more with his eyes than his words. And she had been determined to get to know him in more ways than one, after the final dance and feast of the tourney, she had led him back to her chambers and bedded him. The morning after he had apologised most profusely for dishonouring her as he saw it, she had merely kissed him on the lips and told him that she wanted to get to know him better. That had eased his nerves somewhat and so they had agreed to keep in contact, and they had through ravens they came to know one another a lot better, and Ashara fancied herself more than passing fond of Eddard Stark.

Three moons after Harrenhal Ashara had realised she was with child and had panicked, for the King had grown even more paranoid and suspicious of the north and the Starks following Harrenhal and when she went to speak with the Grand Maester she had panicked massively. Arthur had been the one escort her back to Blackhaven not saying a word to her the whole time and back then she had thought it was because he was disappointed with her but now looking back on it she realises that it was likely because of what the madman he called a friend had likely asked of him. She had come back to Blackhaven and found that her father was knocking on death’s door, Lord Edric Dayne had been a strong man and a kind and loving father, he had fled Dorne with Princess Loreza when the Yronwoods had rebelled and as such had always been loyal to her first and the crown second. He had died of a wasting sickness two moons after Ashara had arrived at Blackhaven. She had given birth to Jon a moon before news of Lyanna Stark’s abduction became common knowledge. Jon, who looked so much like his father, with his dark brown hair, long face and piercing grey eyes. Her Jon was a quiet babe barely crying and most observing what he saw. She loved him with all her heart and she so wished for him to know his father.

About two moons after Jon’s birth Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark arrived at Blackhaven, their arrival at her childhood home had completely surprised and angered Ashara, how dare Rhaegar come bringing a woman he had abandoned Elia for to her home! But that was not the worst thing about it, no, the worst thing about it all was that Arthur had come with them, and had aided Rhaegar Targaryen in the kidnapping of a Princess and married woman. Arthur who had been their father’s favourite child who was the Sword of the Morning, had aided in the kidnapping of a woman, and that had broken Ashara’s heart. Rhaegar Targaryen was a mad man, that much had become clear to Ashara shortly after the man had arrived, he would go on and on about some stupid prophecy and how Lyanna Stark would give him his Visenya, Ashara had slapped him when he had mentioned that and how it was more important than the lives of Elia, and his children Rhaenys and Aegon, she had slapped him and she would have done more to him had Ullrick not pulled her off him. Ullrick who following their father’s death was now Lord of Blackhaven and had declared neutrality, telling the world he needed time to mourn his father’s death and the death of his own child, and telling Rhaegar he meant to protect the royal babe that was currently in Lyanna Stark’s belly, whilst telling Ashara and Arthur that he would not hurt their family by aiding a rapist and a kidnapper. For that was what Rhaegar was, Lyanna Stark Ashara had come to find was stubborn and wilful but she did not like Rhaegar, she screamed whenever he came near her, and when the man forced himself on her Ashara could see how Lyanna shook and felt repulsed with herself afterwards. Arthur kept on insisting that Rhaegar was not raping Lyanna Stark, but what else could it be especially when he had bribed her with the deaths of her husband and son unless she allowed him to have sex with her.

Thankfully Rhaegar was gone now, he had left for King’s Landing some two weeks ago, after Ser Gerold Hightower the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had come looking for him. How the lord commander had found the Prince Ashara knew not but she had a suspicion it had something to do with the eunuch. News from the war had been rare coming to Blackhaven, they knew of the fighting in the Stormlands and the fall of Summerhall to Stannis Baratheon, and they knew of the fall of House Tyrell and the rise of House Osgrey. Ser Gerold brought them news of the battle of the Bells and the marriages of Elbert Arryn and the betrothal of Stannis Baratheon, no news on Ned and that unsettled her as much as it soothed her, so long as he was not married by the time this war ended things would be okay. Rhaegar had left for King’s Landing with Ser Gerold Hightower, but he had ordered Arthur and Ser Oswell to remain in Blackhaven to guard Lyanna Stark and to make sure she did not leave, a decision that was eating away at Arthur who Ashara knew wanted to be fighting or doing something other than face the grief that he got from Ullrick and herself.

As it were Ashara had come to see Lyanna Stark today to speak with her about various things. She nodded to Arthur and Oswell who allowed her to pass. Lyanna Stark was stood in front of her window staring out into the grounds below and turned around when Ashara closed the door. “Lady Ashara,” the princess said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I came to see how you are doing my princess.” Ashara said. “and to ask if you needed some company.”

“Do you mean other than your brother and his fellow crony? Aye perhaps some actual company would be nice rather than having a madman and his henchmen.” The princess says with some bitterness in her tone.

“Arthur hates what he has had to do Princess,” Ashara says. “You must know that.”

Princess Lyanna sighs and says. “Aye I do know that. But he is supposed to be the symbol of chivalry and knightly valour as a white knight. Why is he not?”

Ashara sighs and says. “Because he listens to the words of a madman. Prince Rhaegar has always had a screw loose in his head my princess. But he manages to hide it well. He charms people with his words and his songs, and only reveals select portions of the true him to those he deems worthy. Arthur saw only the persona, the mask. Elia saw it all and she worried for her children and she worried for us all. But she was but a woman in a world ruled by men. She could not do anything, and now neither can you. You carry Rhaegar’s bastard and my brother and his sworn brother will make sure you remain here till Rhaegar returns.”

“And what if he does not return? What if my husband kills him and sees to it that your brother and his sworn brother are killed what then Ashara? What will you do?” Lyanna asks.

Ashara sighs and says. “Then I will stay by my son and do what I think is best for him. I will wed Ned if he will still have me and I will raise our son to the best of my abilities. And if Ned dies then I shall still raise my son to the best of my ability.”

“You truly are something,” Lyanna says.

“My Princess?” Ashara asks her not sure what she means.

“I can see why Ned fell for you. He was enchanted by you at Harrenhal, and Ned is not like Brandon who will promise a girl the world in the night and forget her by morning. Ned means what he says with everything he has. I can see why he might have forsaken his honour for you, and I know he will do whatever it takes for the two of you to be together in the end.” Lyanna says.

“And I know that your husband will do whatever it takes to get you back safe and sound. I did what I could to ensure the Baratheons emerge victorious in this war. Summerhall fell because of the men my brother sent out on my pleas.” Ashara says.

“But why?” The princess asks. “I thought your house were loyal to the Martells? A very odd way of showing loyalty by helping them lose their castle.”

Ashara smiles sadly and says. “If that castle had not fallen the Baratheon cause might have been doomed and then so too would Ned’s life. I love your brother and my son too much to allow Jon to grow up an orphan and I could not bear to live without Ned. So I convinced my brother to do what any man with honour would do, and fight for the side with the right cause.”

Lyanna goes to speak but then her face contorts and she screams, and Arthur bursts into the room. “I think my water just broke.” Lyanna says softly, her face contorted in terror.


	14. Snake Oil And Holy Water

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**Prince Aemon Stark**

They had been at war for a year and a half, it had been almost two years since that bastard Rhaegar Targaryen had taken Lyanna, kidnapped her and most likely raped her every day since then. Every day that passed made his anger grow hotter, it made him become determined to see Rhaegar Targaryen and the Targaryens as a whole suffer for what they had done to his family, for what they had done to his wife and to his baby boy. His son Benjen had turned three two weeks ago, staying in Winterfell where he was being looked after by Aemon’s sisters and by their grandmother. His son would more than likely not remember him or Lyanna when they returned and the thought of that hurt him all the more, his son had said his first word without Lyanna being there, had taken his first steps without Lyanna being there, and had written his first sentence in big scrawly handwriting without either of his parents being there. Such thoughts pained Aemon and made him all the more determined to make sure Rhaegar Targaryen paid for all that he had done.

The war as it were had gone better than expected, they had managed to cross the twins without having to give up anything to Walder Frey, all that the man had asked was that trade relations between his house and the north be increased, something that Aemon had been more than happy to agree to. Walder Frey had even given them his whole host of men, some 4,000 men armoured knights and foot all of which were added to the main northern army. Aemon had seen how the southerners had trembled at the sight of the giants that had come south as well, twelve giants had come south with Aemon and his men, nine remained. The southerners seemed far too terrified of them to attack them in battle, and the giants had proven an effective tool in preventing too many of the Iron Throne’s men from fleeing the Stoney Sept, waiting as they had on the outskirts of the town before bringing their mammoths down to bring hellfire.

The battle of Stoney Sept had been fought in close quarters, the town was a small one nothing compared to White Harbour or to some of the other towns that Aemon had been to in the north, still it was close quarter fighting and it was something that Aemon had excelled at. Jon Connington had led a host of men from King’s Landing made up of houses from the crownlands and the Vale and some from Volantis and had been searching for Robert Baratheon the man who the southerners had declared their new king. Connington had wasted too much time doing door to door searches, and as such that had cost him, for it had allowed for Aemon and the men under Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn’s command to enter the town and fight and shatter the royalist host. Baratheon who had been hiding out in a brothel before then came out swinging and the royalist host fled, with Connington significantly injured leading the retreat. It was a great victory for the alliance and one that had finally made the Targaryens realise just how serious a threat they were to the throne.

As with any battle there had been casualties, for the southerners in the alliance Ser Denys Arryn had been slain by Connington, Ser Gowen Baratheon had also been slain and countless other southerners who were part of the alliance had died as well. For the north though their casualties had been fewer those who had died had been people Aemon had been close to, Brandon Stark Lya’s brother had died slain by some Targaryen loyalist, Brandon had never fully recovered from the wounds he had taken when the bastard Rhaegar had taken Lya and so had not been able to fight to the best of his ability. Torrhen Thunderfist a man so devoted to Aemon’s father that Aemon had not been surprise when he had come south of the wall, had died as had his sons, leaving the succession for the Crow’s Lands up in the air. Edrick Snow the Lord Commander of the Winter’s Guard who had been one of Aemon’s heroes growing up had died as well, slain by some Targaryen knight or the other. Brandon Stark the elder, Lya’s uncle was now the Lord Commander of the Winter’s Guard, or at least he was the acting Lord Commander.

After the Stoney Sept their forces had moved north towards the banks of the Trident where both Lord Hoster Tully and Lord Jon Arryn said that the royalist forces would be forced to make their stand, for it was where the Battle of Redgrass field had happened a century ago, and the Targaryens were nothing if not keen for symbolism. And so they marched, along the way they faced some resistance from the remaining loyalist riverlords led by Lord Ester Whent who managed to cause the death of Lord Hoster’s cousin Edwyn Tully. There had been fighting, more minor skirmishes than anything and they had always come out on top. They had arrived at the western bank of the Trident with most of their forces intact, 20,000 northmen including the wildlings and the giants, 10,000 Valemen under Lord Jon Arryn, 10,000 Riverlords under Lord Hoster Tully and some 600 Stormlords forces remaining from previous battles under Lord Robert Baratheon, or should that be King Robert Baratheon.

Of his allies Aemon found that he preferred Jon Arryn to Hoster Tully or Robert Baratheon. Jon Arryn was a man who held honour dear to his heart, and a man of principle who did what he felt was right and worked towards achieving that goal. A man Aemon could relate to, a man who had made Aemon understand why his other goodbrother Ned was the way he was. As for Hoster Tully, Aemon thought the man was nothing more than a conniving opportunist who was using this war as a way to further his house’s position in the pecking order. Aemon knew that his own mother got along with Hoster Tully but Aemon did not trust the man and kept him at a distance. Robert Baratheon was an oaf, who was good for one thing fighting and Aemon suspected that once the war was done the man would either be dead from the battles or he would be dead from the drink and the pressures of being king.

Either way there had been word from their scouts and a royal host led by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen who had eventually appeared from wherever the hell he had been hiding for the past two years was now marching up from King’s Landing to the Trident and so Aemon had called a war council to discuss what their next move should be. Apart from Aemon, his mother Visenya and his goodfather Lord Rickard who made up the northern contingent, Lord Hoster Tully his brother the Blackfish, Lord Jon Arryn and his heir Elbert Arryn and Robert Baratheon were present in the council tent for the alliance. Aemon spoke first. “You all know what news we have received my lords. Rhaegar Targaryen has emerged from the darkness to take responsibility for the blood he has caused to be shed. He marches with a host at his back for the Trident; I would hear your suggestions as to what we should now do.”

Robert Baratheon came forth first with a very bold move. “We engage in open combat with Rhaegar Targaryen and his men. We have hold of the western and northern bank. Rhaegar Targaryen will want the eastern and southern bank. We attack him with all our might on the southern bank and we will break his host and cause the eastern bank to be useless.”

Aemon’s mother spoke then. “A bold move King Robert, but how do you suggest we get about crossing the water of the Trident without drowning ourselves? The currents are quite strong this time of year.”

“Simple, we send in the light armoured men first, your wildlings would do nicely, to serve as fodder for the Targaryen host. Make them think we are serving them easy pickings and lull them into a false sense of security before we cut them down bit by bit.” Robert replies.

“A smart plan, but Rhaegar Targaryen will expect that. The man is said to have taken lesson from his defeat in Dorne where a similar move was used against him by Gyles Stark. He will expect something similar to happen now, especially considering you fight similar to how Stark thinks Your Grace. Perhaps a more subtle move is in order?” Lord Jon Arryn says.

“What would you suggest Lord Arryn?” Lord Rickard asks.

“I suggest we draw Rhaegar Targaryen towards us. Make him be the first one to make a move. We hold the two most valuable banks of the Trident, wait and Rhaegar Targaryen will make a move and then we can cut him down.” Lord Arryn says.

“A smart suggestion my lords, Your Graces.” Lord Hoster says. “Make Rhaegar Targaryen bring the attack to us and we shall find a chink in his armour and use that to our advantage.”

“Very well then we are decided.” Aemon says at last. “We shall make Rhaegar Targaryen come to us. Lord Arryn positions your men on the western bank, myself and my men will join you. Lords Tully and Baratheon position your men on the northern bank and make them work for every mile. And we shall make them bleed.”

Once the other lords have gone, he speaks to Lord Rickard and to his mother. “Mother you shall have command of the left, Lord Rickard the right. Lord Borros shall hold the centre and I shall lead the Van.”

With that they end the meeting and Aemon prepares himself for the battle that is to come. Three hours after the council meeting ended Ser Mark Ryswell of the Winter’s Guard comes and says. “They have been spotted approaching the eastern bank Your Grace. Lord Robert and Lord Hoster have gone to give them action.” Aemon nods and finishes putting on his armour, that done he mounts his horse and takes Ice from his squire’s hands. He spurs his horse onto the front of the host where 20,000 men and women stand before him looking at him and waiting for him to speak. He opens his mouth and bellows. “Men and women of the north, we are here to fight to break an evil that has hurt our country for many years now. We are here to see justice done for our fallen brothers and sisters. We are here to win, and win we shall!” There is roar of agreement and then the horn is sounded and they march from the camp to the western bank, waiting.

As it turns out they do not have to wait too long for soon enough the battle joins them on the western bank of the trident. Men flying the Targaryen banner and the banners of various houses from the crownlands appear and Aemon leads his men and women and giants into the fighting. He swings his sword like a man possessed, cutting down men, left right and centre, cutting them down Ice bathing in their blood. On and on he goes, cutting them down ending their lives with a swing of a blade. Men lie scattered on the banks of the Trident, their blood turning the water red when he sees him.

The man who took Lyanna, the man who is behind this all, Rhaegar Targaryen flanked by a white knight of the Kingsguard, wearing black as night armour with a dragon helm, Aemon roars and his direwolf Crimson howls and then they are joined in battle. A clash of blades, steel on steel causing sparks to fly, and Aemon slashes, Rhaegar parries, Rhaegar slashes Aemon parries. Rhaegar has skill Aemon will give him that but Aemon has experience and has anger fuelling him. He swings his sword again and again battering down Rhaegar’s defences, cutting him and denting his armour, blood comes out from the wounds on Rhaegar’s armour, the man managing to do the same to him only a few times though each time it stings. Eventually when they are both tired and the sounds of battle begin to die down around them, Aemon finds a weakness in Rhaegar’s game and exploits, he feints to his right and then thrusts Ice right through the gap in Rhaegar’s defences piercing through armour and skin and when he pulls out blood comes from the wound and from Rhaegar Targaryen’s mouth.

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen dies on the 30th day of the ninth month of the 283rd year after Aegon’s Landing slain by Prince Aemon Stark. With his death and the deaths of Ser Jonothor Darry who is slain by Prince Barthogan Stark in revenge for the death of Prince Cregan Stark, and the death of Prince Lewyn Martell, the royal host breaks and then is shattered by the Tully and Baratheon hosts and the giants that act as the wall for the engaging northern and Valemen hosts. Robert Baratheon slays Lord Randyll Tarly who was given command of the Reacher lord host, and so Ser Barristan Selmy is brought before the alliance leaders near death, and though some preach letting the man die Robert Baratheon pardons the man and sends his own maester to tend to him. When news reaches them that a Lannister host is marching for King’s Landing, unsure of what will happen Prince Aemon takes his northern host to King’s Landing marching as quickly as possible.

* * *

 

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

For twenty years he had served as hand of the king to Aerys Targaryen, for twenty years he had helped Aerys bring the realm back into peace and stability after the Tragedy of Summerhall and the invasion of Dorne that the king’s grandfather had caused. For twenty years he had laboured day and night to ensure that the kingdom remained at peace with itself and with its neighbours in Dorne, the North and Volantis, and for what? So that King Aerys could be little him and deride everything that he had done, or so that he could continue to make comments about Joanna long after she was dead and cold.

For twenty years, Tywin had dealt with Aerys snarky comments and apparent loathing and hatred, he had taken it all in his stride knowing that when Aerys died Prince Rhaegar would become king and his daughter Cersei would be queen, that was what he had hope for ever since his daughter had been born, and even when Aerys had rejected the proposal he still held out hope. Rhaegar was a much more reasonable man than his father, or atleast that was what Tywin had thought, Harrenhal was where they were to overthrow Aerys through a grand council and backing from the northern kingdom. But of course the eunuch had learnt of what they had intended to do and so the plans had been cut off. Still Aerys had delighted in taking away the one thing that Tywin held dearer than his position as hand, the chance for the family to continue, his eldest son Jaime had been named to the Kingsguard by the mad king and now Tywin was left with a dwarf for an heir.

And so when Rhaegar had kidnapped the Stark princess, and Robert Baratheon had rebelled and declared he the new king and the north had awoken and marched with its full might to deal with their traditional enemies, Tywin had remained in Casterly Rock refusing to answer to either sides summons. He would wait and see where things were going before he committed to a cause. His daughter might have been betrothed to Robert Baratheon, but there was nothing on solid paper that said he had to commit to the war that his potential goodson was waging, Tywin had never met the young stag as he was being called, but he knew of the rumours that followed the man around. He had already fathered a bastard in the Vale and was said to have a voracious appetite in women almost like Tywin’s own uncle Tion was supposed to have had. The man was also said to have had a voracious appetite for wine as well, wine a drink that could do more damage to a man than any battle could. According to his sources within the rebel camp, Robert Baratheon had drunk enough wine to make the Arbor go dry during the course of the war. A man like that might not last forever, and if not then perhaps marrying Cersei to him might not be a good idea, or it might be, a baby on the throne would mean more power for the Lannister family and the chance to establish a long lasting dynasty.

News had come from various fronts about the cousins war as the war was being waged, Tywin had heard about the battles in the Stormlands and the ruthless efficiency Robert’s second brother Stannis Baratheon had shown in dealing with the lords who refused to come to his brother’s summons, an approach that Tywin himself would have taken. He had heard about the fall of House Tyrell and the rise of House Osgrey, something that anyone with half a brain would have been able to see for many years now, House Tyrell had never been completely secure in the loyalties of their bannermen and their inaction and greed had cost them dearly now. Tywin had made a mental note to keep an eye on the Osgreys and to make overtures about a possible wedding alliance between Jaime and Perwyn Osgrey’s daughter, once the daughter came of age and Jaime as freed from his oaths in the Kingsguard as he would be soon enough.

The most interesting piece of news that had come from the cousin’s war though had come from the riverlands and the battles of the bells and the trident. In both battles the northern army had played a key part in ensuring victory, with the use of giants at the bells and the killing of Prince Rhaegar by the north’s crown prince. The north had shown itself to be a power to reckon with during this war, and Tywin lamented the fact that Aemon Stark was already wed with a son, though such things could be taken care of if the need arose. Another good thing to come of the north’s involvement in the war was that Borros Reyne, the last surviving remenants of the Reynes of Castamere had died during the war, killed by one of Tywin’s own men masquerading as a crownlands soldier during the battle of the trident. Borros Reyne had been killed in a multiple duel with other soldiers and his son Edgar had also been slain. House Reyne of Long Lake was once more on its knees and Tywin intended to crush them once he got the chance.

Of course that was all for the future, for now with Prince Rhaegar dead the Targaryens were finished, and so Tywin who had called his banners after the battle of the bells had told his men to march. 20,000 men had marched and they were closing in on King’s Landing every day, Tywin knew that Prince Aemon Stark was riding hard for King’s Landing as well followed closely by the new southern king and his backers. Still Tywin knew the quickest ways into the city and he was hoping that Aerys was still blind to the ways of the world that he would allow Tywin and his men into the city so that the Targaryens could end as they should have ended a long time ago, with fire and blood.

“My lord you asked to see us?” Ser Gregor Clegane the Mountain that Rides knighted by Prince Rhaegar four years ago, stood in the entrance to the war council tent. Tywin nodded for him to come in and he did so closely followed by Ser Armory Lorch.

“I have a task for the two of you. In twenty minutes we shall march for the gates of King’s Landing where if all goes to plan we will be allowed into the city. You two shall not be with the host when the plan is enacted. Instead you shall ride into the city and then scale the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. You are to find Princess Elia and her children, and remove them. Kill them and there will be rewards for the both of you.” Tywin says.

“It shall be done my lord.” Both men say.

“Good now leave, and get my brother Ser Kevan.” Tywin says.

Sure enough Kevan arrives. “My lord you asked for me?”

“I did, Kevan, when we arrive at King’s Landing I need you to take command of 5,000 men and secure the Red Keep. And when you enter the keep I want you to find Jaime and have him brought out of the keep.” Tywin says.

“My lord?” Kevan asks his voice slightly hesitant.

Tywin looks at his brother then and says. “When word reaches Aerys of what we are to do to King’s Landing he will no doubt have some sort of venomous pay back on his mind. I do not want him to think to use Jaime. Find Jaime and have him removed from the Red Keep, kill Aerys if the need arises but do what needs to be done.”

“Yes my lord.” Kevan replies.

Tywin dismisses his brother and then looks at the map in front of him should all go to plan, the Targaryens will end soon enough and the Baratheons will forever be in their debt. His daughter will be a queen by the end of this. The time comes and Tywin puts on his armour, mounts up on his horse and leads his men to the gates of King’s Landing where he asks Ser Manly Stokeworth for permission to enter the city as defenders of the true king. Shortly afterwards the gates to King’s Landing and his men come pouring in. He nods at Kevan who sounds his horn and the sack of King’s Landing begins.

Tywin remains at the back of the host but all the same he can hear the sound of the Goldcloaks being slain as they try to defend the city, and he hears the sound of his men breaking and smashing through the streets of King’s Landing taking whatever they can. He does not smile, has not smiled since Joanna died, but he thinks this might be suitable revenge on Aerys for what he has done. The bodies continue to pile up as the gold cloaks die and fall to the ground and the men are slaughtered for getting the way of the lion’s host.

Tywin rides up Aegon’s High Hill as the city below continues to experience the lion’s justice. He arrives at the entrance of the Red Keep to find its doors wide open and his brother Kevan waiting for him. “We managed to remove the remaining protection with the Red Keep my lord, but we could not find Ser Jaime.”

Tywin feels something within him tense but outside he keeps a calm face. “Very well, we continue into the Red Keep and remove all those who refuse to surrender.”

And that is what happens, at the end of the sack of king’s landing some three hundred men are dead some of them gold cloaks others were men and women who had gotten in the way of his men as they took the Red Keep. Tywin will remember for the rest of his days, entering the throne room to find his son sat on the Iron Throne with Aerys Targaryen’s dead body lays sprawled at the foot of the throne. Prince Aemon Stark and his big direwolf were stood at the steps of the throne, Stark speaking with his son before turning and leaving. Jaime merely smiles at his father and then the rest of it passes in a blur for Tywin.

Roughly three days after the sack of King’s Landing is complete and done, Robert Baratheon arrives in King’s Landing alongside Lord Hoster Tully and Lord Jon Arryn and their armies. Robert looks every inch a warrior in his bronze scaled armour and his stag helm atop his head, Tywin along the rest of those in attendance bow before him as he ascends the throne. Once the oaths of fealty are done Tywin steps forward and nods to his squire to lay the bodies of Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys and Princess Elia at the feet of the throne. King Robert looks at them and then at him and asks. “What is this Lord Tywin?”

“A sign of House Lannister and the Westerlords fealty Your Grace, the bodies of Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys and Princess Elia Targaryen. They have been wrapped on crimson cloaks so as to better hide the blood, so as not to stain the floors of the throne room.” Lord Tywin says.

Silence and then. “Very well, your fealty is accepted. Now remove these bodies from my sight.” Robert replies.

The deed done Tywin remains in King’s Landing for another two weeks, during that time Robert is sworn in as king anointed by the High Septon, a fleet is built in order to capture Dragonstone, the king’s small council is named with Jon Arryn being named Hand of the King. Prince Aemon Stark and his northmen march back home, though Tywin overhears the Prince and Lord Rickard discussing riding to Blackhaven for something or the other. Robert also pardons Jaime, Grand Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys as well as all the other lords and ladies who served King Aerys and the Targaryens. Jaime though remains in the Kingsguard and Tywin decides to bide his time. The day before he leaves he speaks to Lord Arryn about arranging the wedding of his daughter Cersei to the new king and is told that the wedding will happen in three moons. He leaves a very happy man.


	15. Sound of the Warbeast

**Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower**

He had been in the Kingsguard since his twentieth nameday, a proud day it had been when Ser Duncan the Tall, the Lord Commander of King Aegon V’s Kingsguard had placed the white cloak upon his shoulders.  That had been during the year of the dragon, the 245th year after Aegon’s Landing, and since then Ser Gerold had seen many things come to pass under his watch. He had fought in battles meant to defend the Targaryen dynasty against the usurpers in the Blackfyres, he had fought in the war for Dorne and had killed men who before had been his friends and brothers. He had seen many Targaryens come and go, King Aegon he who had named him to the Kingsguard had been a good king, perhaps the best of the kings Ser Gerold had served under, he had been kind and just and had known when to pursue a goal and when to let sleeping things be, at least he had until the wood’s witch had come to court.

The wood’s witch who had come with Jenny of Oldstones, the woman who had so bedazzled Prince Duncan the small with some sort of sorcery that he had forgotten his duty to the realm and to his family and abandoned his post and wed a common girl. Prince Duncan would have made a fine king, he was strong and martially minded but he also placed a good part of his sense to learning and the teachings of the past, that he had died in Dorne during the failed campaign was one of the greatest tragedies that Gerold had known. The Prince had loved his wife and his children, and so when Prince Duncan had died, and as Ser Gerold had watched the light leave his eyes he had promised the prince that he would protect Prince Aemon and Princess Daenys with his life, but he had failed in that.

Prince Duncan’s death and the deaths of his children in the tragedy of Dragonsville had meant the ascension of Prince Jaehaerys to the Iron Throne. Though Prince Jaehaerys was of a frail constitution, what he lacked in physical strength he more than made up for in mental strength. Ser Gerold had stood guard over the prince’s father to see how much of his father he had in him. But where King Aegon had hesitated with some of the harsher measures he had had to inflict on the people, King Jaehaerys had gone through with them with a ruthless dedication that would have made Aegon the Conqueror proud. The lords grumbled but in the end they benefitted the most, and peace with the north so long sought after was achieved in King Jaehaerys reign that he died when he did was a shame and a great loss.

Prince Aelix Targaryen, the third of King Aegon’s sons and his youngest child was a man who had been destined for great things. He was great with a sword and had a very good mind for war, and he also had a certain charisma that drew others to him, Ser Gerold had been one of those people he would admit. The Prince had died slain in the Reach, brought low by Blackfyre scum and his death had torn a hole in the fabric of the royal family, one that it had never truly recovered from, and that was something Gerold wished he could have prevented. He had been with the Prince when they had fought the Reacher lords who had declared for Lucerys Blackfyre, but he had been engaged elsewhere, if he had not and stuck to his duty perhaps he would have been able to save the Prince.

Of course the death of Prince Aelix was the not the biggest of the sins he felt. Allowing King Aerys to live after the madness he had shown in the years following Duskendale was. King Aerys had been a good and affable man in his youth, but something had changed in him after Duskendale, gone was the happiness replaced by anger and madness. The King had taken to burning his nobles alive; something that had shocked and scared many for even King Maegor had never done something like that. Of course as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Gerold had had little choice but to stand there blank as a statue and watch it all unfold before his eyes. That was not the worst of it all though, it was the fact that Gerold had been convinced that the King’s son Prince Rhaegar would be different that he would be the one to bring the Targaryens to greatness once more, how wrong he had been. The Prince had been nothing but a rapist and a madman, hell bent on fulfilling a prophecy that had brought nothing but ruin to his house and had torn his family to pieces.

Gerold had been relieved when the King had ordered him to go to Dragonstone and not to the Trident, he did not think he would have been able to stand being in the Prince’s presence without trying to kill him. As such when news had reached them of the Trident on Dragonstone, Gerold had made plans to aid the remaining royal family the Queen and Prince Viserys out of the island fortress and away to wherever they still had allies. However, the Queen had given birth to a baby girl she had named Daenaerys before they could leave, and then the Queen had died, and then the sack of King’s Landing had happened and Prince Viserys had become King Viserys and it was not Gerold’s sworn duty to see the prince to safety.

That was why he had with Ser Willem Darry and Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s help taken the royal fleet all 90 war ships from Dragonstone and set sail for Volantis, where the last of King Maekar’s sons lived. King Aerion the old, a man who had once been mad who had risen to greatness, a man who was King Viserys only chance of getting his birthright back. They arrived in Volantis some three moons after leaving Dragonstone, and upon arriving they had been greeted by the heir to the black throne Prince Maegor Targaryen, King Aerion’s great grandson. They were informed of the crowning of King Robert Baratheon the usurper and of the taking of Dragonstone and how the treasurers of the island stronghold of the Targaryens had been looted and sacked.

That had been some two moons ago now, and finally King Aerion was well enough to see Gerold. Prince Maegor came to escort him to where his great grandfather was sat, overlooking the pools of the royal family, Prince Maegor announced him and then left. “Ser Gerold Hightower,” the king said his voice barely louder than a whisper. “The Lord Commander of my great nephew’s Kingsguard. Tell me Ser, why has my family lost the throne?”

Gerold was silent for a moment and then he said. “Because of the actions of the usurper and because of the folly of your great nephew and Prince Rhaegar.”

The old king laughed and replied. “At least you are a straight talker. Yes that does seem to be the case, and yet the usurper Robert Baratheon, he is one of Aegon’s descendants Rhaelle’s grandson, he would not have had to do what he did had Aerys not done as he had done. And Prince Rhaegar, yes that name rings a bell. Aemon often mentioned that boy in his letters, what foolishness did he do to cause the war?”

That the old king corresponds with his equally old brother should not surprise Gerold as much as it does, after all it seems it was only King Aegon who continued to despise King Aerion long after Aerion had left Westeros. Ser Gerold swallows and then says. “He took Princess Lyanna Stark, in order to fulfil something or the other Your Grace.”

“Ah so that was what it was? Aemon did not mention that in his letter. Then again I suppose he did not know. None of them could have known. I suppose Daemon Stark sent his full strength south then, after all he always hated my family. But I digress, what happened is in the past now. We cannot change the past, but we can take lesson from it and act better in the future.” King Aerion says.

“Your Grace?” Gerold asks uncertainly.

“We can learn from what mistakes Aerys and Rhaegar made and we can make sure they never happen again. I maybe old but I am not stupid Ser Gerold. I know why you have come to Volantis of all places. Viserys and Daenaerys are Targaryens, and though I would keep them safe, I know that one day they will grow up and ask questions of where their parents and brother are. They will want revenge when they know the truth of what has happened. And it is our duty as their guardians to make sure that they are as prepared as they can be for the task that lays in front of them. The Usurper cannot be allowed to sit the throne that my ancestor built for long, he must be removed and order must be restored. And I shall train my men and my great, great nephew in the ways of ruling and I shall make sure when the time comes he is ready. And you and your fellow white knights will make up for the failings you have had and you shall train him to be a better soldier and commander than his brother was.” King Aerion says.

Ser Gerold nods and then asks. “My fellow white knights Your Grace? Are Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell here?”

The old king laughs. “Oh did I not mention this before? Forgive me I often forget small things. I shall have Maegor show you to where they are staying. Maegor!” The king calls, and his great grandson appears. “Show Ser Gerold to where Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell are staying and then return here I have things I must needs discuss with you.”

The Prince nods and then walks with Gerold to a room at the far end of the palace, near the servants quarters, he thinks the message is quite clear, they did a most unfortunate task and as such will be regarded as such. The Prince leaves Gerold at the doorway, and when Gerold knocks a tired sounding voice calls him in. He finds Oswell and Arthur sat on chairs facing each other looking haggard and worn but they both stand up when he enters. “Lord Commander.” Ser Arthur says. “We were not sure if you and the Prince and the Queen had arrived safely we have been asking for you all for some time.”

“When did you arrive in Volantis?” Gerold asks.

“This morning Lord Commander.” Ser Oswell replies.

“You know of what has occurred since we last met?” Gerold asks.

“Aye,” Ser Arthur says his voice somewhat pained. “Rhaegar died on the Trident, King Aerys, Princess Elia, Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys died in the sack of King’s Landing. And the usurper Robert Baratheon now sits the throne with Cersei Lannister as his bride.”

“Who was it who killed King Aerys?” Gerold asks.

“Jaime, it was Jaime Lord Commander.” Arthur says his voice pained.

“A false brother if ever there was one.” Oswell says though they all know he does not mean it.

“We all know what Aerys was, but Jaime should have given the task to someone more deserving and not broken his vows. Still that is neither here nor there now. We have a duty, King Aerion has agreed to house us and King Viserys and Princess Daenaerys for the time we need. It is up to us to teach them both in the ways of the world and in the ways of their family. We must make sure they do not make the same mistakes as their predecessors made, and we must make sure we raise a King that the people of Westeros would wish for, the King Rhaegar could have been.” Gerold says.

* * *

 

**Lord Rickard Stark**

The war had waged on for close to two years, ever since King Aerys Targaryen had refused to answer King Daemon’s calls for justice for the deaths of Brandon’s companions and the injuries done to Brandon as well as the kidnapping of Lyanna. His little girl who had been so wilful and beautiful on her wedding day and a loving mother after giving birth to a boy she had named Benjen, everytime he had closed his eyes for the past two years he had seen horrible images of Rhaegar Targaryen doing unspeakable things to his little girl, and the thought had made him more than angry, he had wanted blood, and he had wanted Rhaegar’s blood. Of course the bookish prince had not dared come forth to answer for his actions until he had been forced to, and when his head had been presented to Rickard by Prince Aemon his goodson Rickard had nodded in approval before allowing the body to be cremated.

From there they had marched on King’s Landing where Tywin Lannister had shown why he was known as the bloody lion, the city of King’s Landing had been violently sacked by Tywin’s forces before the northern host had had a chance to arrive. Princess Elia and her children had been killed brutally by Tywin Lannister’s men, and then King Robert had done nothing but turn his eyes away from the sight of the bodies presented before his throne. Jon Arryn had nodded at Tywin Lannister and rewards had been given, Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer had retained his place in the Kingsguard, though his white cloak was soiled according to the southerners though Rickard felt he had done a good job, and deserved that white cloak more than someone like Ser Barristan who had stood by and allowed the mad king his indulgences.

Still there were other things that had kept Rickard’s thoughts away from the actions in King’s Landing. His eldest son Brandon had died during the battle of the Bells, having never truly recovered from the wounds he had taken during Rhaegar’s abduction of Lyanna. His eldest son had been his pride and joy, true he had been wilful and wild, but he had also been a strong and kind young man when he wanted to be, and he would have made a good lord of Moat Cailin and a good high steward. His life had been ended to soon, and now his daughter, Rickard’s granddaughter Berena Stark was now the heir to Moat Cailin. Rickard was not sure what he made of that, having grown up in a culture where ladies where allowed to rule in their own right, and were not faced with open challenge due to their ability to defend themselves, he knew that Berena if he raised her right could become a great lady and ruler in her own right. The one thing he was nervous about was the ambitious lords trying to get a claw into Moat Cailin and the wealth that it had, Rickard was also not a young man anymore, this war had more than anything had aged him quite considerably, and he did not know how long he would live for or whether he had the strength to raise yet another child to maturity. Still he was a Stark and he would do his duty and he would make sure his heir was raised well and with respect.

He certainly knew that should he die before Berena reached maturity, that she would not be open to manipulation from all corners. For Prince Aemon, his goodson was also Berena’s uncle through Brandon’s marriage to Princess Daenaera, having known the crown prince since he had been a boy, Rickard knew that Aemon would do all he could to ensure that Berena’s inheritance was protected and that she got her rightful due. Rickard’s goodson was a good man; he had proven himself a great commander as well as a great warrior, a man who had done both his father and mother proud. From what he had seen of Prince Aemon’s interactions with Lyanna he would also be a good husband, a good and caring father, and someone that Lyanna would be able to count on once they got her back from her ordeal.

In complete contrast to Robert Baratheon the new king of the southern kingdom,. Robert Baratheon was a man made for war, Rickard had heard of his prowess and skill in Dorne, and had seen firsthand the ruthlessness with which he carried himself in battle. The man had singlehandedly driven back Jon Connington on his advance during the Battle of the Bells, and had also been the one to break the royalist’s right flank by slaying Lord Randyll Tarly and several other prominent Reacher lords. It had become obvious to Rickard that the man lived for war, and that he preferred that to the tediousness of ever day life. Still there was hope for Robert Baratheon, he was a good man, and had a way with people that could win him many allies and perhaps help improve relations between the north and the south. He had wed Cersei Lannister, giving Tywin Lannister what he had always wanted, and Ned had been named to his small council as master of laws. Rickard had heard all of this through a letter that Jon Arryn had sent to them at Blackhaven when they had written of where they were.

It appeared that Ned’s betrothed Lady Ashara Dayne had held more loyalty to his son than to her friend’s husband. And when they had arrived at Blackhaven to find Lyanna and Ned’s betrothed and bastard son present, he understood why. It was clear that his son and Ashara Dayne were in love from the way they acted around one another, always around one another and never leaving for more than a moment, Rickard had met his grandson Jon Storm, a boy who looked so much like Ned and like himself that Rickard had had to chuckle at it all. Of course he had spoken to Lady Ashara’s brother Lord Ullrick Dayne and they had agreed that the marriage between Ned and Lady Ashara should take place as soon as possible.

Rickard had also treasured reuniting with Lyanna once more, his daughter appeared shaken but otherwise fine, she made jokes and she laughed and cried, and when Rickard had met his granddaughter, the product of Rhaegar Targaryen’s obsession, Rickard had not been sure what to think. A mixture between anger and pity for the child had been present and when he had asked Lyanna what she wanted to do with the girl, his little girl had looked at him and said bold as brass that she would be raised in Winterfell along with her trueborn son Benjen. Prince Aemon had agreed and seemed to have taken very well to the girl who they had named Shiera, treating her as if she was one of her own.

His son had married Ashara Dayne in the sept of Blackhaven a week ago, and Rickard had never been prouder of his son than he had been on that day. Ned had looked every nice the lord as he had said his vows before the septon and Lady Ashara had shone beautifully; they looked a regal couple as they said their vows to one another. Rickard knew that Brandon and his own wife Lyarra would have loved to have been present. Still, after all the war and death that they had seen over the past two years it was good that there was still some happiness left in the world. Something that had been added to when a raven had arrived from King Robert who had given Ned and his wife half of the Connington lands as well as a new keep with which they could live in as well as legitimizing Jon, and making him a true Stark.

“What are you thinking of father?” His daughter’s voice took him from his thoughts.

He turned round from the rail to see Lyanna with Shiera on her hip, his granddaughter was fast asleep, Rickard smiled at them both and said. “I was just thinking about how things have gone for us all for the past few years sweetling. I have never felt older than I did the other day when Ned married. All of my children apart from Benjen have children now; there is nothing left for me to teach you all.”

“You cannot be thinking of taking the black can you father? Benjen still needs guidance and little Berena will need someone to teach her how to be the Lady of Moat Cailin. And besides we still all need your advice. We always will, you’re our father, father. We will never stop needing you.” Lyanna replies.

Rickard smiles then and says. “I had forgotten how wise you were Lyanna sweetling. Yes there is still much I need to do. King Daemon continues to ail in health and I know not how much longer he has left to live, though we are all too proud to admit it, losing King Daemon now will be a very big loss. Aemon is a smart man and will be a good king, but he needs his father to teach him one last valuable lesson. One I did not get to impart to Brandon.”

“And what is that father?” Lyanna asks.

“That a good lord knows when his people need him, but a great one knows when the need of his people is greater than his own need. There will be hard times ahead for all of Westeros with the Targaryens gone, and it will be our duty to make sure that all goes well and smoothly. We cannot afford another war, and we must work to ensure the peace remains as it was.” Rickard says.

“I see,” his daughter replies. “I think I will go to sleep now father. I shall see you in the morn, when we depart for Winterfell.”

Winterfell, the north, it has been so long since he has been home, he looks forward to leaving the south and resuming his rightful place in Moat Cailin and as the king’s advisor in Winterfell. That they are leaving tomorrow is a great relief to him. He turns round and sees his son Ned stood where Lyanna had been stood only moments before. “Eddard,” he says. “I had thought you would be with your wife and son.”

“Ashara and Jon are sleeping father. I had thought to speak with you before you left for the north on the morrow.” Ned says softly, almost as if he is a boy once again.

“Oh, and what did you wish to speak of with me, my boy?” Rickard says.

His son is silent for a long moment, and Rickard sees more of himself in his son than he ever has before, for all that Lyarra and Daemon used to joke about it before. His son hesitates and then says. “Are you disappointed in me father?”

Of all the things his son could have said to him, this takes him by surprise the most. “Disappointed in you? Why on earth would I be disappointed in  you Ned? You have carried yourself well and with honour throughout the war and though you argued with Robert Baratheon you held back the anger that I or Brandon would have let through.”

“For dishonouring Ashara and sleeping with her when we were not betrothed or married. You and Lord Arryn had raised me to be better than that.” Ned says.

Rickard laughs then and says. “Oh Ned, I am not disappointed in you because of that. Whilst yes knowing you fathered a bastard was a bit of a shock, I am not disappointed in you. If anything I am relieved. For it shows you are a person and not a inanimate thing. No I would have been disappointed had you not fessed up to doing the deed when presented with the evidence. That you have now wed Lady Ashara and claimed your son and had him legitimised, I see no reason to be disappointed in you son. You have done me and your mother proud, and you should be proud of yourself for taking responsibility when other men would have shirked such a responsibility.”

His son smiles then and says. “So you will come and visit us when your duty permits father?”

“Most definitely son. Now I must get some rest before the long journey tomorrow.” Rickard says, bidding his son goodnight.

The next day, just as the sun begins to rise through the clouds, the northern contingent rides north from Blackhaven, to meet up with the rest of the northern army camped at the Brindlewood, and from there they begin the long march back north and back home. Two years after the whole issue with the Targaryens began, it has come to an end, the people of the north cheer when they see their prince and princess riding side by side, and when Prince Benjen runs out to greet his parents Rickard smiles, a smile that remains on his face for a long time to come.


	16. Wishing Well

**King Daemon I Stark**

The war that had started when Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped his gooddaughter had ended with King’s Landing sacked and the Targaryen King and his grandchildren killed, butchered by Tywin Lannister’s men. The means were horrible and without honour but the end result was much the same, Daemon had gotten his peace with the Targaryens when he had had King Aegon and his grandchildren killed during the Tragedy of Dragonsville, and yet there was some sort of pleasure he took in knowing that the Targaryens were down to two members, Viserys Targaryen and Daenaerys Targaryen, one a little boy the other a babe in swaddling clothes. Daemon knew that war would come to Westeros once more, but he would not be alive to see it, and if he was being very honest with himself he did not care, he had seen enough war to last him a lifetime.

That his gooddaughter had returned safe and sound to Winterfell and that his sons and his wife had come back alive and whole was more than Daemon could have asked the gods for. He had seen so much war and destruction in the past that he knew that he should thank his stars that those he loved had come back, and he did each and every day through the pain he got up and had himself carried to the godswood where he prayed. His eldest son Aemon had come back a much changed man, war did that to people, his son had been wild and carefree before the war and now he was serious and grim, though Daemon knew he found happiness amongst his wife and son, and the bastard girl Lyanna had had with that scum Rhaegar Targaryen Shiera her name was. As for Barth well Barth was still angry but much less than he had been before the war, Ser Jonothor Darry had been slain by his son Daemon had heard from Aemon’s letter and so Cregan had been avenged. There had been some changes made after the war, with Robert Baratheon sitting the Iron Throne, Rickard’s son Eddard had remained in the south wed to Ashara Dayne whose brother had aided in the kidnapping of Lyanna, Daemon was not sure what to make of that situation but it was not his to ponder now.

Daemon knew he was dying, that was why he had organised his son’s Rickon’s wedding to Berena Hornwood, he wanted to make sure his children were all looked after and cared for before he left the world. With Halys Hornwood’s death and his wife dying in childbirth with a stillborn son Rickon was now the Prince of Hornwood and his children would become princes and princesses of Hornwood following him. Rickon, his bookish son, the son who Daemon spoke with about history and politics, he was a good lad and he was happy that his son was happy with his wife and with his lot in life, he was happy his son had found the happiness in his marriage that Daemon had not found in the early years of his own.

As for Daenaera, his oldest daughter had spent much of the war in Moat Cailin looking after both her own daughters Berena and Branda as well as Aemon’s boy Benjen. His eldest daughter was a widow, what with her husband Brandon’s death during the battle of the bells, to be a widow so young it broke Daemon’s heart and yet his eldest daughter soldiered on, she had always had a strong will and a stubbornness to her that was all Visenya, no matter how much both of them would argue the point Daemon knew it and he was glad that his daughter and granddaughters would be safe from harm and those who would seek to use her widowhood to their advantage.

Barth had wed Kyra Blackwood the sister of Tytos Blackwood the master of Sea Dragon Point before the war had happened, and it seemed his son had found some sort of happiness in his marriage as well. Daemon knew from what his daughters told him that Barth seemed to smile more around Kyra and their children than he had ever done as a boy growing up or since Cregan’s death, and for that Daemon truly was happy. He knew the anger his son had harboured after Cregan’s death, for it was the same anger that he had had after Samaira and Jorelle’s deaths, and it was not healthy, for it could if allowed to eat away at you leaving you nothing but a shell. Daemon had told his son once before he had ridden of for war that that was no way to live, angry at the world when there was so much for it to offer and for you to seize. It seemed his son had finally listened to his advice and was now living his life.

It was strange what looking death in the eye could do to a person. Daemon had known he was looking death in the eye for the duration of the cousins war, and he had fought onto life to make sure he was there when his son and wife returned. They had returned and the Targaryens were gone from power, and now he knew that he could let go, but still in these last few moons since his family had come back whole, he had made sure that he and his wife were on better terms than they had ever been on before. He had told her countless times since she had returned that he loved her and that he was sorry for ever doubting her and that he knew she would never betray him. In some small way it helped that Borros Reyne the man Daemon had so badly wanted to kill, had been badly maimed by the Targaryen forces at the Trident, so much so that he would never be able to wield a sword again let alone command a host in battle. That made some small part of Daemon feel much better, and he knew that he could rest easy.

Still he knew that today was the day that he would leave the world, his grandmother had left the world some two years ago before Harrenhal and all the mess that had followed it, and now it was his turn to go. He had asked for his wife, his children and his grandchildren to come and see him off, Maester Aemon and Rickard and Lyanna were also present, and though Daemon had already said farewell to his grandchildren they did not truly understand what was happening. And so he called for his Maester to come forward. “Maester Aemon, a true friend and ally you have been. Providing myself and my family with invaluable information for many years now. May you continue to do so and guide our family through this new era.” The maester bowed his head and shuffled off into a corner, “Rickard, a good friend and High Steward you have been. Though we did not always see eye to eye on some issues, I know that at the end you had the best interests of the north in mind. Stay strong now old friend, there is much that you still need to do. Lyanna, you shall be a good queen I know, strong and fierce and proud, you must be to survive the hell you have been through. Look after your children well, and listen to Aemon and lead him down the right path, he can be a bit of an idiot sometimes.” There were some laughs there, and then Daemon spoke to his two oldest children. “Daenaera and Delena my two spitfire princesses. I have always known you would make something of yourselves, be strong now and forever, and know that I will always love you.”

His two eldest children were crying though Delena was fighting hard not to show it. Daenaera spoke for the both of them. “We love you papa and we will always remember what you taught us.”

“Barth, my boy, my strong armed boy. You were named for a great man, a man who brought greatness to the north before the dragons came. Never forget who you are my son and never let the anger take hold of you. Let your family know who you are, and you will never forget it.” Daemon said, his voice growing weaker.

“I will father.” Barth said solemnly.

Then came Lyarra, Rickon, Dacey and Rodrik his four youngest children. “Ah my little wolf pups,” Daemon said softly as they came to his side. “My fierce little wolf pups who have grown so strong and proud. I remember the day each of you were born, as if it were yesterday. My little wolf pups that have become wolves in their own right. Always remember that the pack survives my little wolf pups, do what you can for each other and make sure you always remember your pack, both here and wherever you make your home in the future.”

He took a deep breath and then said. “Aemon,” His eldest son knelt down by his side and took his hand. “My boy, my heir, my pride. You were named for the man who stands here with us and for the Dragonknight, and I cannot say enough just how truly proud I am of you. You have fought a war and won, and emerged a better person for it. I know you will learn from what I have taught and from the mistakes I made, and I know you will lead the north into a glorious age that none will ever be able to rival. I am proud of you my son and I love you.”

It was getting harder for him to breathe now and the light was getting weaker, still he had some more words to say, and the face of his son Cregan dead before his time came into view and he spoke. “One of my wolf pups is missing. Cregan, a brave and fierce boy, he was taken before his time. His blood debt has been paid, but the loss of his life will always haunt me, I will see him soon and I will give him all of your love. And I will tell him what we could not tell him in life. I know he will be happy to know that all is well here in Winterfell and the north. Soon enough I will be reunited with him. But I still have to say goodbye to my wife, Senya where are you?” Daemon asked, his eyes were getting clouded.

“I am here my love, right here beside you.” His wife replied taking hold of his hand.

He turned to face her, he raised his free hand and sketched her face with that hand. He stopped at a strand of her hair that was loose, “I always did love your hair my love. Remember on our wedding night, when I played with your hair when I thought you were asleep?”

His wife gave a sob and then a chuckle. “I do my love.”

“I always did love your hair. And then I came to love you, my fierce she dragon. You were always the queen the north deserved more than I was ever the king it deserved. You were my rock, you were my truest friend and confidant. I suppose the old buzzard was right in the end. I was not always fair to you my love, but I know that we both wanted the same thing in the end. And we got it did we not? I know you will be fine without me, but I want you to know that I love you and that I will look after all of you from beyond. I love you Senya.” Daemon said his voice getting weaker as the light went dark.

“I love you too Daemon.” Those are the last words Daemon Stark, King of the North and the Iron Islands, the Giantslayer, the First Men King and Defender of the True Faith, hears before he passes onto the great beyond. He dies on the twelfth day of the twelfth month of the 283rd Year after Aegon’s Landing. His son Aemon is crowned as King Aemon Stark first of his name on the thirtieth day of the twelfth month of the 283rd year After Aegon’s Landing.

* * *

 

**Lord Stannis Baratheon**

It had been two years since the cousin’s war had ended, with the Sack of King’s Landing. Stannis had not been there for the sack, but he had been told that it had been a gruesome sight, rape, slaughter and butchery at ruled the day then, and the Lannisters had sealed their part in it all by having Prince Rhaegar’s wife and children brutally killed. Though Stannis did not agree with the way in which it had been carried out he knew that it was something that needed to have been done in order to ensure that Robert’s throne was secure, as it was Viserys and Daenaerys Targaryen had escaped from Dragonstone before the new royal fleet had been fully built, and now there was still a legitimate threat to Robert’s new dynasty and it was something that they were all aware of, as well as the possibility of future war.

Whilst Robert seemed to have gotten stale since the war had ended indulging himself in drinking and whoring and never seemingly spending time in his wife’s own bed, Stannis was just glad that the war was over. There were times when he could still see the blood of the men he had killed, and their bodies often felt like a force that were suffocating him in his sleep, so much so that he would often wake up in the middle of the night sweating and with his heart pounding. It was not something he was proud of, but it was something that had been happening for so often that when he had last been to Storm’s End he had asked Cressen for something to aid him in sleep, as of now it was still to do anything.

The cousins war as the war that had overthrown the Targaryens was being called had done much damage to the kingdom, the kingdom Robert had  come into from the Targaryens had been greatly damaged and destroyed by the latent folly of the Targaryens and as such there was much that needed to be done in order to repair it. There were lords who Aerys Targaryen and his father had managed to offend during the course of their reigns that had needed to be brought back into the fold by giving them concessions on certain tax duties and by giving them positions of influence at court. People such as Lord Vaemond Velaryon were kept under close scrutiny but were also rewarded for bringing in new trading contracts with the free cities and for providing new designs for ships for the royal fleet, designs that would make the royal fleet stronger and faster and would therefore mean that the throne would never again have to depend so heavily on the Redwyne fleet, a fleet that had itself been so badly damaged during the cousins war by the Ironborn.

Robert had held good to his promise and had named Stannis Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands following his coronation and the settling of certain affairs within the realm as a whole. Once the council had been established and Stannis as Master of Ships had overseen the completion of the new royal fleet, he had been given leave to settle the affairs of the Stormlands and make sure that their traditional base of power remained so. Those houses that had fought for Robert and Stannis during the war were rewarded heftily for their service, and those such as House Connington that had fought for the Targaryens had land and other things stripped from their possession, Robert had given half of the Connington lands to his friend Lord Eddard Stark who was wed to Ashara Dayne. Robert had also removed the title of Prince and Princess from the Martells, and had named them solely as lord or lady. Princess Loreza Martell had died shortly after the sack of King’s Landing from a heart failure was the common belief, and so her son Lord Doran Martell had come to the lordship of Summerhall and it was with him that Stannis had negotiated the ending of hostiles between Storm’s End and Summerhall and ensured that the Martells and their bannermen did not try and cause any issue for Robert or his new dynasty.

And somehow in the midst of doing all of that, Stannis had also fulfilled his betrothal to Catelyn Tully and had wed her in the great sept of Baelor, with the court and both their families present. His wife was a nice woman, smart and dedicated to her honour and her duty, she embodied her house words, and for that Stannis was grateful, she was not one of those simpering fools who had so followed the new Queen around court, she was someone he could actually have a conversation with, and he had found her to be quite engaging as a talking partner. Of course that she was good looking was no hindrance either and soon enough she had given birth to Stannis’ first born son, a boy they had named Robb who had his raven black hair and his blue eyes but his mother’s face otherwise. Robb was soon followed by another black haired and blue eyed boy they named Steffon in honour of Stannis; father, and his wife had just given birth to a daughter who she had named Sansa, a true riverlanders name for a girl who looked exactly like her mother with her fiery auburn hair and blue eyes, Stannis sensed that she would be a beauty when she was older.

As well as his own children Catelyn had to look after his little brother Renly, his little brother reminded him so much of Robert at that age, so full of energy and questions. Questions that Stannis often had very little to no patience to answer and so it fell to his wife to answer them and where she did not know the answers to provide good guesses which she would later ask Stannis about and then he would have to go and speak with Renly about them. His little brother would be a good man when he grew up, Stannis was determined to see that happen he would not let his brother turn into Robert, and he would not let him feel alone, like Stannis had so often felt alone whilst growing up in Storm’s End whilst Robert was away and his father and mother were busy at court.

Shaking his head he brought himself back to the matter at hand. The hand of the king, Jon Arryn had called for a small council meeting and so they had all come, members of Robert’s small council, the hand himself a good and honourable man, the master of laws Lord Eddard Stark another good and honourable man, master of coin and a snake Lord Daemon Celtigar who had been suggested by master of whispers Lord Roose Bolton, and the two old stays Grand Maester Pycelle and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Barristan Selmy. As ever, Robert had deigned not to attend the meeting and so it fell to Lord Arryn to begin. “I thank you for coming today my lords. As you know it has been some time since we last met, and as such I would hear what news of the kingdom there is.”

Lord Celtigar spoke first. “The royal treasury continues to grow every day my lords. Trade with Bravos, Myr, Lys and Tyrosh have seen our gold increase to twelve million dragons, and with the taxes coming in for this current year we should see an increase to twenty million dragons soon enough.”

“That is very good; keep up the good work Lord Celtigar. Now what news from the seas Lord Stannis?” Lord Arryn asked.

Stannis looked at his notes and then said. “The royal fleet is complete and had a successful test run two days ago, sailing down the narrow sea down to the coastline without any impediments. Should his grace have need of the royal fleet for war anytime soon then he shall not be disappointed. As to news from the seas, well the Northern royal fleet has sailing down the narrow sea once more, for Tyrosh and Lys, and one of the captains reported that there are more ships being built in the Stepstones though for what light he is not sure.”

Lord Arryn nods and says. “That is good. Now Ser Barristan have you had any more thoughts about who to nominate to the Kingsguard in place of those traitors who are residing with the exile?”

Stannis often wonders what Ser Barristan makes of being the Lord Commander of his brother’s Kingsguard, how he feels to be serving the king who got to the throne by stepping over the bodies of the people Ser Barristan had sworn to protect and whether he regrets not taking death or not joining his other sworn brothers across the narrow sea in Volantis. Still the man seems to be putting his all into serving Robert and as such replies. “As such my lord hand I have thought about it long and hard and I have come to the conclusion that the only other man who could be worthy of the white cloak is a man who fought hard and well for the Osgreys during their rebellion against the Tyrells. Ser Edgar Osgrey.”

“Very well, I shall send the raven myself to Coldmoat and have Robert approve the nomination. Now what other news is there for us to discuss?” Lord Arryn says.

Lord Roose Bolton a snake and a cunning one at that speaks then his voice soft. “My sources have reported to me that despite the peace we have and despite the assurances we have had from King Aemon Stark that he means no harm to the new Baratheon Dynasty, Visenya Stark is still in talks with House Osgrey, Costayne, Peake, Shawney and Bracken. It should be noted that all of these houses saw their strength increase following the ending of the war, most particularly House Osgrey who are now Lord Paramounts of the Reach and Warden of the South.”

There is silence and then Lord Arryn speaks. “Now that is most interesting. Of course it could be a case that King Aemon knows not of what his mother is doing but I find that most unlikely. Now Lord Eddard, you grew up in the north and you know both the King and Visenya Stark reasonably well, tell me what you think these continued discussions could mean?”

For the first time since he has known the man Lord Eddard seems very nervous and uneasy. His voice his resigned when he answers. “Growing up in the north I knew that Queen Dowager Visenya Stark hated the Targaryens and was a fervent believer that her nephew Rhaegon Blackfyre should sit the Iron Throne as the true king and the only true descendant of King Aegon the Unworthy. Her most fervent supporter was and is Lord Borros Reyne, and though the man is crippled beyond belief, my sister writes that he still hates House Lannister almost as passionately as he did as a young man. Both of them want to see the Lannisters dead as well as yourself Ser Barristan. And they wish to seat Rhaegon Blackfyre on the throne.”

“Then perhaps, it would be best to have all three killed?” Grand Maester Pycelle asks. “After all King Aemon Stark does not seem a bit interested in the south. Remove his mother and his cousin and make it look as if it was done by the Targaryens and we need never risk war.”

Lord Arryn looks at the Grand Maester for a long time before saying. “No that would only create more questions than answers, and it would disturb the peace we now have. Lord Bolton keep an ear out for any movements that Visenya Stark makes for the south, and send subtle reminders to these houses that she corresponds with that they owe their success to Robert not to this Stark Queen Dowager. Once Robert’s heir is born such talk should stop and we should be able to win over the houses that remain uncertain.”

 


	17. Micro Cuts

**Lord Borros Reyne**

The Cousin’s war, that was what it was being called, that great war in the south where the Targaryens had finally been removed from the Iron Throne. It had all started because Rhaegar Targaryen had taken Lyanna Stark who was the new Queen of the North and Iron Islands. Many men had died in the south as the Targaryen folly had been exposed once more, King Aemon had slain Prince Rhaegar on the banks of the Trident and the Targaryens had been finished. The final death knell had come for the Targaryens when Tywin Lannister the old lion, the man who had ordered the deaths of Borros’ family had come and under a banner of alliance had sacked King’s Landing and had the last remaining Targaryens bar Viserys and Rhaella Targaryen put to the sword. Such treachery shocked and horrified many of the northern lords and yet Borros was not surprised by the fact that the man had done what he had done, after all he was by far and away the most ambitious man that existed in the south, and Borros knew that the lion was simply a man who needed to be stopped.

Borros and his own family had had their fair share of troubles during the cousin’s war. Borros’ wife a woman that he had never been able to love, not whilst Visenya lived was had died, trying to give him another son and Borros and his sons Damon and Edrick no longer saw eye to eye, Damon had died during the Battle of the Bells and Edrick had died during the Trident. Borros’ heir was now his twelve year old grandson Robb, named after Borros’ own grandfather Robb Reyne, and though Borros knew not how to repair things with his other children he was trying his hardest to make sure that his grandson knew how to become a good lord and was a warrior, not one of those bookworms that King Daemon had made of his son Prince Rickon. Borros had taught his children the gifts of survival and had made sure they all understood that they would not be able to defend themselves with words but rather with their actions, and so they had all know how to defend themselves with weapons. An approach his Visenya had adapted with her own children, though Daemon Stark had made sure that she had been hindered in being able to turn her daughter Daenaera and that bookworm Rickon into warriors as they should have been.

Borros himself had suffered much harm during the cousin’s war, tasked with leading the left of the northern host during the battle of the bells he lost his left hand fighting some Targaryen knight or the other, and then during the battle of the Trident he had been knocked from his horse by some bloody spearman from the Dornish marches, and his horse had fallen on top of him, leaving him without the use of his legs. Still he could use his other body parts, and once King Daemon had died, he had finally been able to have the sort of relationship with Visenya that he had always wanted. They were much closer now than they had been with King Daemon around, and his Visenya was much freer with her emotions and in displaying them in public. They told each other everything and they involved one another in the running of each other’s households. Of course the ultimate seal of their feelings for one another was currently running around the yard in Winterfell, Maelys Blackfyre, his and Visenya’s son born in 287 A.L. in a birth that had been very hard and long for his Visenya, Maelys had been born with silver hair and violet eyes, but a frail child. Still Borros loved his son well and was proud to have a child with Visenya, and was glad that the child was not a bastard and that whatever King Aemon thought of him personally, he still loved his mother enough to legitimise her child.

Maelys birth had done a lot to slow down Visenya, she had been forty three after all when she had given birth to their son, and as such had been advised by Grand Maester Aemon to rest and do nothing that could cause her any additional stress. Two years had passed since then and their son though frail was otherwise a perfectly happy child who lacked for nothing in Winterfell or Long Lake. Visenya herself had resumed her constant planning for the war that she knew was coming in the south, the plan to crown Rhaegon Blackfyre, her nephew and have him assume his rightful place on the Iron Throne.  Their support base was growing every day as their spies in the south reported what a bad king Robert Baratheon had become, word that was confirmed by the reports that Lord Eddard would send as well.

It appeared that Robert Baratheon was more suited to fighting for a throne than actually holding it. The man whored and drank, and spent a copious amount of money, money that he did not actually have. Still he had two children by the Lannister whore, Joffrey and Myrcella were their names, and their sources in the south reported that both children had the Lannister golden hair and green eyes, not the tradition black hair and blue eyes of the Baratheons. Though Visenya did not think much of this information, Borros himself was curious as to what it could mean and was doing his utmost to see if he could use the information to their favour.

With Visenya still needing sometime to rest following a day attending her son in court and with supervising their own son, Borros was tasked with meeting with the southern lords who were their allies. Ser Terrence Osgrey, heir to Coldmoat, Ser Laswell Peake and Ser Daemon Costayne had come north the Dragon’s keep a place that the Winter Dragon had built for those were dedicated to the Blackfyre cause, and only that. A place that his Visenya now used to conduct her business with the south away from the disapproving eyes of her son and the High Steward. Rhaegon was present as Borros bid Osgrey, Peake and Costayne to sit down. Ser Terrence Osgrey was a big man, muscular and smart, Ser Laswell Peake was cunning and Ser Daemon Costayne was strong and martially minded the enforcer of the three. Rhaegon Blackfyre was a tall man with broad shoulders and many muscles; he had his family’s silver hair and purple eyes, and was a smart man if somewhat shy. Borros spoke first. “My lords, my king. I thank you for coming here today. I would hear news of what has happened in the south since we last met.”

Ser Terrence Osgrey spoke then. “Mace Tyrell has sent his youngest son Loras to be fostered at Storm’s End. The crown and Tyrell say that this is an attempt to foster better relations between Baratheon and Tyrell. My father believes that this is an attempt by Tyrell to get into the king’s good books and perhaps to increase Tyrell influence at court.”

“That could be problematic for you Your Grace,” Ser Laswell Peake says. “Whatever else he might be Mace Tyrell is not an idiot. He knows that an alliance with Storm’s End would bring the might of the Stormlands, the might of the Hightowers and whatever other swords the Tyrells can still muster themselves to the table. Along with the Lannisters and the riverlands and the Vale. We might find it harder than expected to bring you to the throne.”

“It would be better were the Tyrells and Stannis Baratheon to remain at one another’s throats. After all Stannis Baratheon has not forgotten nor forgiven the damage that was done to his people by Tyrell during the war. Still his wife has more political sense than he does, so their alliance might just be sealed by marriage.” Ser Terrence Osgrey says.

“Then perhaps your brother should seek to betroth his son Lewyn to Margaery Tyrell and end this nonsense once and for all.” Borros says.

“My father believes that doing such a thing would only worsen things within the Reach. Besides there are more things that he needs to consider, Tywin Lannister has suggested a betrothal between his niece Cerenna Lannister and my nephew Lewyn as well. And whilst my father is loathe to allow his grandson to be betrothed to a Lannister, it could give us a way to take control of the Rock when war does inevitably come.” Ser Terrence Osgrey says.

Borros tenses at the mention of the old lion, but Rhaegon eventually speaks. “That is a smart move and would most likely prove to be more useful than allowing the Tyrells a way back into Highgarden. Let them work their magic on the Baratheon brothers, tell your father I want him to accept the betrothal between his grandson and Cerenna Lannister. Lord Borros I want you to get your contacts in the Westerlands working on removing the Lannister stranglehold.”

Borros nods and says. “I will do that Your Grace, though it could take some time. After all Tywin Lannister has had a long time to prepare for his reign of tyranny. Now what of the trade deals we have with the south how goes that my lords?”

Ser Laswell Peake speaks then. “It goes well my lord, Your Grace. Dorne and the Reach are both benefitting from the trade deals that Lady Visenya has established. The Free cities, Tyrosh and Lys in particular are turning out be regular customers of the deals, and have promised whatever we need when the time comes. The Florents are also benefitting from the wine deals that they got when Rhae Florent was wed to the new lord of the Arbor, I forget his name some cousin of the main branch. Nonetheless the trade deals have most certainly filled the coffers and given us enough room to be lenient or flexible with prices and deals.”

“That is very good my lord.” Borros says, he pauses for a moment and then asks. “Now what information have you been able to get me about King Robert’s council?”

Ser Daemon Costayne speaks then a sly smile on his face. “Oh yes there is information a plenty on Robert Baratheon’s small council. Jon Arryn the hand, is an old man, smart and honourable, and it is that honour that will have him eaten alive by the Lannisters, Eddard Stark is a younger version Jon Arryn, and he too shall soon enough depart when the Lannisters get what they want. Stannis Baratheon is as stubborn as a bull and refuses to budge on many issues that have meant that the Lannister influence in court is being limited for the time being. Though with the advent of the new master of coin Petyr Baelish, such things could change. That Baelish is a snake in the grass, operating for one motive and one thing only though what it is I do not know. Then there are Bolton and Pycelle both of whom are lackeys for the Lannisters, though Bolton has the cunning to hide his own purposes for being a lackey from all.”

“Will this council enable there to be tension in the realm or not?” Borros asks.

Ser Daemon smiles and nods. “Aye my lord it will. Two honourable men and a stubborn mule on it, there will be blood following the war with the Pirate King. The Lannisters want more power, and daily Robert Baratheon loses his manhood to the cunt of the Lannister whore. Soon enough, she will have him by the balls, and whatever poison she whispers into his ear he will do, and his two honourable friends will be gone or they will die.”

Borros is silent for a moment and then he says. “We must speed that process up. We must have there be tension and anger in the south before we can march. Ser Daemon that is your task, cause there to be suspicion between the council and we shall have our chance. War will come sooner rather than later and we shall win.”

* * *

 

**Hand of the King Lord Jon Arryn**

He was too old, that much was clear. The cousin’s war had been the last battle that he could wage properly, and that in it had been very draining. The planning, the fear that he might not live to see another day and the fighting itself, they had all taken their toll on him both mentally and physically. Of course when they had actually been fighting, the thought of what would happen to him and his should they stop fighting had kept him going and made him able to ignore the pain that was filling through his body. Now that the fighting was done however, he could feel every bruise, every wound and every life he had taken during the war, and all the battles he had fought in before that. At night he would close his eyes and he would see the shadows of a thousand figures before him calling to him, asking him to die, and asking for forgiveness, and yet still they came night upon night. Jon Arryn was a man haunted by many ghosts, the ghosts of his siblings, his wives and the stillborn children they had given him. They were the ghosts he dealt with at night, during the day he ran the kingdom for Robert.

Robert, the boy Jon had raised from the age of eight, the boy who had fought so hard and furiously for his foster brother Ned, the boy who had been a joyful and energetic young man was descending into a fat and brooding man. That his foster son was unhappy with his lot in life was no secret to Jon, many a time during feasts and tourneys, Jon would see the king more than often drunk off of his face, a wine cup in hand a woman on his lap, and he would see the descent into debauchery and death for his foster son. He did not like what he saw, and he tried everything he could think of to get Robert away from this path of madness that he was embarking on, he tried getting him to think on what his father and mother would say to him if they could see him now, and yet his foster son merely laughed and said he knew not and he did not care. Then he tried to get him to think about his brothers and his children and his wife, and how they all looked to him for guidance and care, and again Robert laughed and said that he cared not, nor did they care for him and he drank more and more.

The sad thing was that Robert was right, his brothers did not know him nor did they care. Jon often felt in his darker moments that that was his own fault, after Steffon and Cassana Baratheon had died, Robert had remained in the Eyrie, to learn how to become a lord, a good and proper lord, and though Jon had soon taught him all he could, Robert remained in the Eyrie instead of returning home. And Jon did very little to stop him from going, looking back on it now he supposed he should have done more to make Robert feel like he was honour bound to go back to Storm’s End. The king’s brothers were both younger than him and though he knew he would never admit it, Stannis, the master of ships did deeply admire and look up to Robert, and had found him lacking in many things, and that had caused tension between the brothers Baratheon, tension that Jon knew some were trying to exploit, such as the Tyrells, though what their true motives were he knew not.

There were often times late at night where Jon would wonder if it had not been a mistake to name Robert king when the rebellion had first began. Robert was showing more and more that he was a warrior first and not a king, perhaps he would have preferred simply remaining in Storm’s End and leaving someone else the burden of dealing with a kingdom torn apart by war. Perhaps they should have crowned Rhaegon Blackfyre, and prevented all the confusion and turmoil and uncertainty that still rang true throughout Westeros today, but then Jon did not know Rhaegon Blackfyre, did not know who he was and what he would be, he knew Robert and he knew that underneath all that pain and anger, the good boy that Robert had been in his youth was still there somewhere, he just needed to be found.

Jon was just relieved that back home in the Eyrie, his own family was safe and happy. Though he had not children of his own, he had treated Elbert, his nephew as if he were his own son. Elbert, who had been headstrong and wilful in his youth, was now a settled man with a wife and four children. Robert, Jasper, Sharra and Artys were all very delightful young children, all with their mother’s fiery auburn hair and blue eyes. Though Robert and Jasper reminded Jon so much of Elbert in his youth that Jon would often chuckle when his nephew complained about his children not respecting his wishes. For that was a complaint Jon had often given of Elbert himself when his nephew had been young. Elbert seemed to truly get along with his Tully wife, Lysa Tully who had not come to her marriage a maiden, but seemed to be far happier with Elbert than she had been when the marriage had occurred. Jon had spoke with both Elbert and with Nestor Royce, and he knew that the lords of the Vale were very happy that Lady Lysa was there to ensure that things were done properly, and that they had a true lady Arryn there for them once more.  He was confident that when his day came, the Vale would be in safe hands.

But for now he had to put away the thoughts of Robert and his family back home in the Vale, for now the king had called a council meeting and for once it seemed that Robert meant to attend, if his presence in the chamber was anything to go by. For once he was sober, and the other lords of the council seemed just as surprised to see Robert as Jon was, there was Ned as master of laws laughing and joking with the king, master of coin the new boy Peytr Baelish who had come with high recommendations from Lady Lysa, then there was Stannis as master of ships who was having a quiet discussion with Ser Barristan the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and then there were Roose Bolton and Grand Maester Pycelle both relics from the Targaryen reign. Jon cleared his throat and asked. “Should we not precede Your Grace?”

Robert blinked and then said. “Yes, yes go on Jon.”

Jon nodded and then said. “Well since we last met, there have been some interesting new developments. Lord Baelish if you would be able to fill us in with the reports from trade.”

Petyr Baelish a young man, well to be fair apart from himself, Pycelle and Ser Barristan the other members of the council could all be considered young, spoke then his voice light and jovial. “Trade is flourishing Your Grace. We brought in some 2 million dragons from trading with Dorne alone in the last year and have also brought in some 5 million dragons in taxes from the southern realm. Trade with the free cities has seen us bring in 6 million dragons, so now that the total revenue for the crown now stands at 13 million dragons. Once payment to the Lannisters has been made, the crown will have some 4 million dragons left over.”

“That is good,” Jon said. “And what news from the seas Lord Stannis?”

Stannis Baratheon was a serious man with a grim reputation that had come from his exploits during the cousin’s war; still he was also an honourable man as well. “The ships in the Stepstones have begun mobilising, they are heading towards Dorne. War it seems is their goal. They have not disturbed us on the shores or the waves, as of yet, but I believe they will do so, soon enough.”

“Who is leading these ships?” Robert asks for the first time.

“A man named Salladhor Saan Your Grace.” Lord Roose Bolton says then, his voice soft. “He is a known pirate and a cutthroat, who used to sail the seas for many a year under his father’s guidance pillaging and raping as he pleased. I believe your knight Ser Davos knows of him Lord Stannis.”

Stannis Baratheon nods curtly and says. “Aye, the man is known to Ser Davos. But they have not spoken since before the war.”

“That is not important now,” Robert says impatiently. “Is he leading an attack on Dorne simply because he wishes to take whatever wine and spices he can, or is there another pirate king out there?”

Jon hears the eagerness in Robert’s voice and dreads what the next words from Lord Roose’ mouth could be. “My sources report that a pirate known simply as the Black Heart has crowned himself king of the waves on Bloodstone and has control over a fleet the same size as the Lannister fleet himself, but also has the loyalty of another one hundred ships. He has sent some of his ships to take on supplies and allies at Lys and Myr to deal with Volantis and has entered into alliance with Yunkai and Meeren to bring about the fall of Volantis. And my sources report that he might be looking to take some land from Westeros as well.”

Robert is fully interested now. “Oh and what pieces of land does he think to take from my kingdom then Lord Bolton?”

“My sources report that he means to take Tarth, and land along the coast of the Stormlands. He also seems to be interested in bringing parts of the Reach and the Vale under his command as well. The Black Heart is said to be the most feared sailor on the seven seas, and it seems that he does not wish to leave anything but a most feared legacy behind him. He will aim big Your Grace.” Lord Bolton says.

“Well if he is in alliance with Yunkai and Meeren it is more than likely Volantis will fall. Perhaps Viserys and Daenaerys Targaryen and their false knights will fall prey to the Pirates there. That would most certainly spare me a lot of hassle in the future. As for what this man plans to do with my lands, Stannis I want you to take command of the royal fleet and sail to Tarth in wait for this bastard, and I want you destroy his fleet. Pycelle I want ravens sent to the lords of my kingdom, tell them to call their banners and be ready for war. If this Pirate King wants battle, he will get it. If he wants my land, and my people he will have to kill me to get them.”

“We do not want to leave ourselves to under defend here Your Grace,” Jon says. “This Pirate King could be hoping you will mobilise in force and head out south to defend the Stormlands leaving King’s Landing vacant. Saaro the Dark tried to do that with King Jaehaerys the conciliator and the King was lucky to have had dragons at his side. You do not have that luxury, should anything go wrong we would be without the capital.”

Robert looks at him and smiles. “Oh I will not leave it undefended Jon. You shall remain here to defend the city, with the help of the Gold Cloaks and those houses closest to the capital. Hopefully there will be something for me to fight, I am getting most bored with sitting on me arse all day with nothing else to do. Ned you shall come with me to the Stormlands, as we march out to fight. And Stannis I want you to at least leave the Black Heart alive, I want the pleasure of killing the man myself.”


	18. Parchment

**Prince Maegor Targaryen**

Though he was a grown man with children of his own there were times when Maegor Targaryen the heir to the kingdom of Volantis often felt like he was still a child, learning the ways of the world. He supposed that was just the way things were to be, after all his great grandfather King Aerion was now nearing one hundred and had ruled as king of Volantis for some fifty seven years, Maegor knew that there was a lot of talk about what would happen once his great grandfather died, after all the people of Volantis had only known life under King Aerion, and the thought of life without his person looming over them all was something that was frightening for most of the nobility, but was also something that Maegor both waited for and dreaded in equal measure. He loved his great grandfather truly he did, but he saw the pain that King Aerion’s life had become, and he did not wish for his great grandfather to continue having to suffer through it all, the illnesses and the loss of movement, his great grandfather often had trouble speaking and often communicated through eye signals, for Maegor who had seen his great grandfather as this great man who could never be brought low, it was hard to see and to take.

Of course, his great grandfather had made a promise to their cousins from Westeros, Prince Viserys and Princess Daenaerys were growing up under Maegor’s watchful eye, learning the ways of ruling a kingdom and the ways in which to lead men. Prince Viserys, or should that be King Viserys, was a keen student who relished in learning the histories of Westeros and Essos and also seemed fascinated by the histories of their family both in Westeros and here in Volantis. The boy also seemed very comfortable in his sword practice, being better than Maegor had been at his age with a sword, though Maegor preferred fighting with a war hammer. The girl, Princess Daenaerys was a sweet child, who often played with Maegor’s own children and seemed to be very popular with the nobility of Volantis. Maegor knew that his great grandfather kept a close eye on the boy to make sure he showed no signs of the madness that had affected his father and other members of their family, so as to make sure that the boy’s cause in Westeros would not be hindered. There were times when Maegor would sometimes doubt whether or not building up Viserys for a kingdom that might not want him in the future was truly worth it, after all the boy was fifteen and would soon need to be knighted, and yet there did not seem to be any chaos brewing in Westeros, not having Varys present to cause it certainly had been a big hindrance to their plans.

Of course there were other things that Maegor had to think about as well, with his great grandfather’s health rapidly deteriorating he had taken on the bulk of the work that needed to be done in ensuring that Volantis continued to run smoothly. He dealt with the nobles, the two main houses in Volantis that dominated court politics behind the black walls, the Boyars and the Maegyrs. Both houses had wed into the royal family at one point or the other, and both were key to ensuring trade and commerce ran smoothly in Volantis, of course both houses had had a long standing feud with one another that went back to the century of blood, and it had fallen to Maegor to deal with their disputes over land and other such things. Maegor had given concessions to both houses, and in cases where it seemed that there would be common ground he had taken the land and made it part of the crown’s possession. His own mother had been from the Boyar family and as such he knew that his uncle expected him to grant concessions to the family, but Maegor had learnt long ago that to show favour to one side was to stab yourself in the foot with the other, and cause tension and anger, and though his uncle no longer spoke to him he had his own ways of dealing with that, and peace in Volantis continued.

Thankfully his great grandfather had seen a way of breaking the tension in Volantis and had wed Maegor, to his sister Daenaerys, Maegor’s sister was a good woman, a kind woman and someone who Maegor loved dearly as a sister, they were good friends and did their bit to ensure the continued line of their family. They had four children together, Vaegor who was betrothed to Princess Daenaerys King Viserys’ sister, Jaehaerys, Mariah and Laena who had been named after Maegor’s mother. Vaegor was a bold lad, smart and glib of tongue, he would make the perfect prince when his time came Maegor knew and he doted on his younger siblings as well as his betrothed. Jaehaerys was a shy lad who preferred the company of books to those of his cousins and siblings, though he could have a good conversation when prompted to. Mariah and Laena were like the same person, the one never being seen without the other. Maegor loved his children dearly and dreaded the day when they would all be grown and would have to leave home.

There was of course another more pressing matter that had demanded Maegor’s attention for the past couple of moons, the sailors who docked in Volantis had reported being harassed by war galleys that had flown some sort of mockery of a banner, a flaming heart with a skull and cross bones, none had known the skull and bones, but all had known the flaming heart. The red god had that banner, and as such when ships from Volantis and her allies had gone missing, Maegor had questioned the red priests as to whether they knew of this new set of pirates, they did not, and it took until Varys put his network into use that they learnt that these pirates worked for the Black Heart a new pirate king. Who had set his sights on conquering Volantis and taking all the wealth he could. Maegor had convened a war council to discuss what needed to be done, and who would lead what part of the defence. The members of the council were all present, Ser Laenor Bittersteel the master of the port, Lord Tycho Boyar the Keeper of coin, Lord Maegon Maegyr the Captain of the Laws and finally Varys Maegor’s bastard brother who served as the spymaster for their council. Maegor nodded to the men and then spoke. “You all know why you are here my lords. I do not wish to tarry long, but first I must hear what news you all have of your respective departments. Varys what news from the front?”

His brother smiled then and said. “Yunkai and Meeren have been delayed in mobilising their forces by Astapor and New Ghis. It appears that some of the masters within the slaver cities remember their allegiances well enough. And as such the Black Heart does not have enough ships to overwhelm our fleet Your Grace. However, the Black Heart is bringing men and ships from Lys and Myr to do his dirty work for him here.”

“Is Saan leading the ships from Lys and Myr? And what of Bravos what do they do?” Maegor asked.

“No Your Grace,” his brother replies. “They are not led by Saan, they are led by some former mummer known as Jhago. The man is inexperienced and will likely fall to the trap you wish to spring. As to Saan he is leading an attack on Dorne.”

Maegor nods and then says. “Ser Laenor, I want you to take command of our fleet, and take as many other ships as you need that can fit around 20,000 men and set sail to meet the fleet led by this Jhago fellow. Destroy his fleet and leave no man alive. Whatever other men come we shall deal with them as they come.”

Ser Laenor nods, and then asks. “Do you think more men will come Your Grace? Without Yunkai and Meeren to support him the Black Heart might not actually have enough support to truly cause trouble to the city.”

Maegor is silent for a moment and then he says. “I do, the Black Heart comes from Mantarys, and they have never had any reason to love us. They will send what men they can, and the Second Sons and other sellsword companies will jump on the wagon to attack us and take what plunder they can. Even if no threat comes from the sea, there will be a threat from land, and I mean to make sure they do not cross the walls.”

Ser Laenor nods, and then Maegor’s uncle Lord Maegon asks. “And what would you have of me Your Grace?”

Maegor looks at his uncle and says. “Lead the defence of the city my lord. Take command of the fire cloaks and the city watch and patrol the city, lead sorties out if the armies get close enough. But whatever you do, do not let them cross the walls.” His uncle nods and then Maegor dismisses the council.

Three days later Maegor watches as his cousin sets sail with the 200 warships that make of the Volanteene War fleet and waits for reports of the battle that he will wage. That news comes some two weeks later when his cousin sends word of victory over the fleet led by Jhago and the destruction of it and capturing of Lys. Two weeks after that, an army some 40,000 strong marches from Mantarys and heads towards Volantis, whilst an army some 10,000 strong led by The Tattered Prince marches from the Rhoyne. Maegor makes the preparations, has his men dig pits outside the walls of the city, and has patrols set up, so that when the armies from Mantarys are spotted, they are ready and waiting. Arrows are fired just as the moon reaches its highest point, and Maegor listens to the screams of the dying men, as they fall into the pits filled with fire and oil, and as arrows pierce them.

Once enough time has passed, Maegor dressed in silver armour with a dragon’s helm atop his head bellows for the gates of the city to be opened, and he leads the first group of men out to give proper combat to the men being led from Mantarys. The battle is short but it is bloody, Maegor swings his war hammer and feels his blood sing with the action, with every man he kills, with every blow of the hammer he feels more alive than he has done in years. He swings, and men fall, blood pools on the ground, the land in front of Volantis is a light with flame, blood and war. The Tattered Prince changes sides and destroys the rear of the Mantarys host, Maegor shatters the left of the Mantarys host, and then continues on his march.

Swinging his hammer, men die screaming, or gurgling as blood spills from their mouths and other wounds in their body once Maegor’s hammer has connected with them. He continues through the throngs of battle, swinging and crushing men, bringing them down to earth with the swing of his hammer. It does not get heavier for him as the battle wears on, if anything it seems to get lighter. The blood simply drips from it and the fighting continues, bodies continue to mount up, the right of the Mantarys host is broken and fled, and then the centre breaks and Maegor ends the battle right there and then when he kills the commander of the Vanguard of the Mantarys host, swinging his hammer left, then right, and then centre bringing the man falling down, and then he kills the man’s horse to add to the impact.

The battle for Volantis ends on the seventh day of the seventh month of the 290th year after Aegon’s Landing, with Mantarys being defeated and their leaders executed for ending the peace. The Black Heart’s allies in the east are broken and Volantis continues to reign supreme.

* * *

 

**King Ormond I Yronwood**

Dorne had done well as an independent kingdom, as of old, they no longer needed to bow down before those in the north who thought themselves more sophisticated and educated than them, and Dorne had shown time and time again that they were more advanced and better at most things than the Westerosi. Three wars had been waged by the Iron Throne to try and bring Dorne back into Westeros by force, and all three times they had failed. Gyles Stark was the main reason for that, his prowess as a god of war had been undeniable, his ability to rally men to a cause was inspirational and it was something that Ormond had aspired to for many years to live up to, having squired for the great man he had thought that he had learnt more than possible under his tutelage than he would have under his own father Prince Edgar had been a very angry man, a good warrior but a terrible father.

Ormond’s grandfather Berros had been the one to give Dorne the freedom it had so desired. Another great man that he had had the pleasure of knowing, Ormond remembered the lessons his grandfather had taught him, lessons of how a king was only as good as the people he ruled over and that it was therefore his duty to make sure that the people were always kept happy and safe, and that it was a king’s duty to know when a lord or official was corrupt and to deal with that official in the most appropriate manner, otherwise the court and the people would fall victim to pain, and pain brought nothing but suffering. King Berros had died when Ormond had been fighting in the Reach, his death had been a tragedy, a great man he had been right up until the day he had died, and Ormond had mourned his death more than he had ever mourned his own father’s death. Edgar Yronwood had been drunk when fighting some battle in the Reach; his father had developed a taste for drink in his later years, and as such had died with a bottle of wine in one hand and a sword through the bowels.

In a strange way, the cousin’s war had done its bit to ensure that Dorne would never again be troubled by the Iron Throne. After all by aiding House Osgrey in taking down House Tyrell, not only had they ensured that a more favourable house ruled the Reach they had also ensured that the new king who sat the Iron Throne did not have to worry about possibly facing more than one big army at a time, which had won them Robert Baratheon’s admiration and friendship as well as a promise to stay out of Dornish affairs, unless a common cause was needed. As such, Ormond was happy to think that his people were happy with the way things were going, there was peace and there was trade and the riches that were spreading throughout Dorne had allowed for a better way of life for the majority of the smallfolk and the nobility, something that one would have never thought possible under the rulership of the Martells, who continued to suffer through their relationship with the Targaryens and the death of their princess.

Ormond himself had married when he was twenty, with so many brothers and sisters around his grandfather had deemed it not necessary for him to wed to early, though when he had wed, he had made a match that would benefit the kingdom. He had wed Nymeria Allyrion a woman whose house had remained staunchly loyal to the Martells through the years, though with the chance of a child of half Allyrion blood becoming the next king or queen of Dorne they had suddenly changed their tune and blocked out Martell plots and won over Martell allies. When Anders had been born, Dorne had rejoiced and the tension that had been present in Dorne since Ormond’ s grandfather had taken power had ended, and now Dorne was relaxing into something known as peace that it had not truly seen for some time. Anders was a bright young lad with a bright future ahead of him, Ormond had done his best to make sure that his son and heir knew what was expected of him for when his time came. Ormond had two other children, Gwyneth who was a feisty girl, who took after Ormond’s own mother rather than her actual mother, and then there was his son Garon, who was a proud lad who would soon enough be great fighter, perhaps better than Gyles Stark had ever been.

Of course it did seem as if the gods were always keeping an eye on the Yronwoods and Dorne, and were not happy with them being in a slightly peaceful period. For there was trouble brewing on the seas, a new Pirate King had emerged, known as the Black Heart he had allied with other pirates and had begun causing havoc along the coasts of both Westeros and Essos. He had raided the coast of the Stormlands and even as close to the Reach as he could get, and had raided Bravos, Myr, Norvos, Qohor and Lys, and had struck an alliance with the slaver cities. He had come close to getting men into Dorne, but Gyles Stark in one last act of valor and bravery for Dorne had taken the Dornish fleet out to the Stepstones to fight him and had died breaking most of the fleet that had been under command of Black Heart’s second in command a former Dornishman known simply as the snake.

And yet the Black Heat was not one to give up, whilst he himself struck out for mainland Westeros he struck a deal with that filthy pirate Salladhor Saan and had Saan take his ships, some seventy of them down to Dorne where he had been engaged in a naval battle with Gyles’ son using the remenants of the Dornish Fleet. Daemon Stark had led the charge and as such there had been little to no word from Stark since then, and as such Ormond was quite worried and so had called a council meeting to discuss the situation. The council members were different to how they had been during his grandfather’s reign, the hand was someone Ormond had grown up with in Sunspear Desmond Sand the bastard of one of the Stark’s, master of whispers was a woman who knew how to get what she wanted Lady Velaena Gargalen and then there was the new High Martial Ormond’s own son Anders. “Well my lords,” Ormond began. “We know why we are all here, I would hear what news you have for me.”

Lady Velaena speaks first, her voice soft, a seduction. “Bad news from the sea Your Grace, Daemon Stark lost the battle with Saan and his life to the pirates on the sea. Saan managed to get whatever ships he had left onto shore and they are now marching through the Greenblood and towards the mainland.”

Silence and then Ormond asks. “And what are the lords near the Greenblood doing about this threat to their lands and people?”

“They can’t do anything Your Grace. It appears that some of the Orphans of the Greenblood have sided with this Pirate and his men and are leading his men through the gaps in the defences that were set up. They know how to navigate through the patrols. Soon enough I believe they will be near the confluence and might be able to challenge for Yronwood itself.” Lady Velaena says.

“So the Orphans have shown their true colours then,” Desmond says. “I always suspected they were too peaceful to be true. Well we shall have to deal with them sooner rather than later Your Grace. We must stop the pirates and the orphans from getting close to the supplies that would continue to finance their mission.”

“How do you propose we go about doing that Ser?” Anders asks. “After all the Orphans know the Greenblood better than the lords of Dorne do, they have made it their business to know the Greenblood better than the rest of us. They will see us coming a mile away, and still have time to kill a few of us before we find them. It would be madness to attack them where they are strongest, and they will not leave their boats or the water.”

“We make the pirates come to us that is what we do,” Ormond says speaking for the first time, a plan forming in his head. “Pirates are a naturally greedy lot, and they have been led far from their ships for promises of gold and plunder. The Orphans have done us a great favour by leading Saan and his men away from their ships and their strength. Maester Alleras, call the banners and tell them to march for the mouth of the scourge, that is where the orphans will lead the pirates to, and they will give them instruction as to how to proceed. We must be ready to meet them when they arrive at the entrance to the scourge.”

And so the ravens are sent out, and some two weeks later as news of the pirates advancing closer and closer to the scourge and the source of the river wealth of Dorne comes, the banners of Dorne arrive, they do not go to Yronwood instead they meet at an abandoned way station Ormond’s grandfather had built, and so Ormond counts 6,000 men, 6,000 men to deal with however many pirates and cutthroats fight beside Saan. They march from the Way Station and are there waiting when the Pirates emerge drunk and bedraggled, there is no honour in fighting a drunken opponent and yet Ormond does not much care about honour, not when his homeland is in danger. He draws his sword and shouts for battle.

Battle is fierce, swinging, bodies all jammed together in armour and sweat and blood, the scourge provides ground for attacks to be launched that see men fall down screaming for mercy, see men die from blows that seem impossible to land, the fighting wages on Ormond cuts down more than a dozen men before he receives a blow to the chest that winds him. Still he pushes on fighting through the waves on nausea that strike him, cutting down men like they are nothing more than sacks of meat he pushes on hacking, slashing, cutting and ducking. Surviving, his sword covered in blood and gore, his son fighting by his side. On they fight, cutting, hacking and slashing the body count rises.

The pirates fight fiercely, cutthroats, men who have nothing to lose and yet still they fight, and on and on it goes. Blood comes pouring into the scourge, painting it red, and blue and all kinds of strange colours in the sun. Ormond hacks men down, and then takes a battering from some pirates, and then fights through them cutting them down, and leaving their bodies in his wake. The process goes on, fighting, hacking, slashing, cutting and ducking, doing what he can to stay alive. The blows keep getting harder and harder, and the pain increases and yet still he fights, hacking and slashing through and through hacking, on he goes. The foe gets less numerous, and yet still they seem to be there and Ormond keeps fighting.

He sees the blood flowing into the river and realises that at some point he must have received more bruises and damage to his person than he had first thought. Still he will not die standing meekly by, he slashes and kills three more men and then advances forward and brings more men down with him. Their numbers are growing thinner, and thinner, and yet Ormond feels the blow to his head and he lands face down in the water, and he knows no more. It falls to his son Prince Anders Yronwood to finish off the Pirates and to kill the last one of their number Salladhor Saan. King Ormond Yronwood who reigned for seven years dies on the ninth day of the twelfth month on the 290th year After Aegon’s Landing.


	19. Panama

**King Robert I Baratheon**

When the cousin’s war had broken out some nine years ago, Robert had been pleased in some sense of the word to get the chance to vent his anger and frustration with life and the Targaryen dynasty out. His parents had died going on some fool’s errand for the mad king, and for someone who was so far gone into being a bookworm that the kingdoms would likely have suffered under his rule than they had done under his father’s that Robert was surprised his father had agreed to go. Steffon and Cassana Baratheon had died on the Windproud, a storm breaking the ship and Robert had been stood watching from a balcony with his brother Stannis as their parents’ ship had sunk, and he had sworn he would never let his siblings know the pain he had felt then. The Targaryens had grown cocky and arrogant and Rhaegar Targaryen was an example of that, thinking that just because he was prince of Dragonstone he could get away with whatever he wanted. Robert could still remember the look on Ned’s face when they had been told what Rhaegar Targaryen had done, and it had been that expression more than anything else that had kept Robert going through the war, he would make Rhaegar and Targaryens pay for causing his friend pain. Rhaegar had died and Aerys had died and with them King’s Landing had fallen.

The cousins’ war had been the one time since his parents had died that he had felt truly alive, fighting and winning and fighting and winning, that was what his mantra had been throughout the whole of the war. There was no room for failure, it was that drive and determination he knew that had kept him alive throughout the war when by rights he should have died at Ashford when that bastard Tarly shoved some sword through his armour, not enough to kill but enough to wound. If there was one thing he would change about the war it was the fact that Jon Connington had come to the Stoney Sept and Robert had hid in a brothel whilst the man had searched for him, going from door to door. It was something he could laugh about and he had found it quite amusing at the time, but now that he was king he did think that it did not seem very brave or manly to be hiding in a brothel, still it had saved him and given him time to recover and ride for more power and strength.

The Trident was where the war was decided when Aemon Stark killed Rhaegar Targaryen the loyalist cause was done, and so from there they took King’s Landing. Looking back on it now, with what he knew now, Robert often found himself wishing that they had simply crowned Rhaegon Blackfyre after the sack and not him, Rhaegon Blackfyre seemed like a man born for the crown, he was confident, strong and smart, Robert knew he himself was strong and confident but he was not smart, he could openly admit that. He found court life with all the politicking and backstabbing tiresome, there was always someone who wanted something from him, and they often expected him to give it to them in order to keep them sweet. If they had crowned Rhaegon Blackfyre like Robert had wanted to suggest then perhaps there would not have been that constant feeling hanging over his head that one day his dynasty would come to an end, a dynasty, pah the Baratheons were not meant for crowns they were meant for hunting, fighting and drinking.

If they had given Rhaegon Blackfyre the crown then the man would have had to deal with Cersei bleeding Lannister not Robert, Robert knew that their relationship was bad, he suspected many things about her but he never wanted to think about them. He drank and whored and let his wife do what she would, she had given him two children so far and that was enough for him. He could not understand her, his wife, the woman seemed to be filled with spite and hate, and he could not understand that, why would someone from so wealthy a family who could have all they ever wanted be so full of hate and spite, they should be happy and proud of what they were doing. Not his wife, she was filled with hatred and spite and Robert did what he could to please her, he held lavish feasts and gave her praise and allowed her some power in court but still she seemed unhappy and he knew not what else he was supposed to do.

His court was filled with braggarts and lickspittles as well, an infestation of Lannisters he liked to joke. He could not look one way without seeing one of the blonde haired shits looking at him, whispering into his wife’s ear about gods alone knows what. And then there were the other fools, those Tyrells who were trying to get influence in court through his brother Stannis, Stannis the iron rod, who refused their attempts to court him, and simply told them to shove off. He found that funny, still there was a rot in the court and he knew not how to deal with it, neither did Jon or Ned otherwise the rot would have been gone and he could have focussed on dealing with Viserys Targaryen across the narrow sea. The man was a threat, and sooner or later he would come to challenge Robert for the throne and Robert knew he would need to fight, and he looked forward to that day.

He had come to realise that fighting was the one thing he knew how to do properly. His hammer and his strength gave him and advantage over many others during war, he had found that out in Dorne and had had it confirmed once more during the cousins’ war when he had caved in Randyll Tarly’s thick head and chest, and made the bastard bleed. That was why he had leapt at the chance of dealing with this bloody pirate king himself. The Pirate King had sent forces in to attack the coast of the Stormlands, and Robert’s cousin Ser Lyonel Baratheon had repelled the force at the battle of the hook. Another force had gone attacking in Gulltown and Elbert Arryn had smashed that force. Stannis had engaged in battle with the ships of the second in command in the Narrow Sea and had smashed the fleet. Now there was just one thing left to do, fight the bastard himself and have done with it.

That was why Robert had called a war council; they were camped within the Rainwood, 50,000 men in total from the Westerlands, Riverlands, crownlands and Stormlands. As well as Robert being present there was his best friend Ned Stark Lord of Crow’s Corner, Ser Barristan Selmy Lord Commander of his Kingsguard, Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord Hoster Tully and finally Robert’s cousin Ser Lyonel Baratheon. “News.” Was all Robert said, looking at his cousin.

Ser Lyonel Baratheon was a big man, all muscle and some sense which was rare for Baratheons Robert had to admit. He spoke gruffly. “My outriders have reported seeing men from the Black Heart’s ships come ashore near Rain House. Lord Stannis did as you asked him, and allowed the ships with the Black Heart’s own personal sigil to survive the battle of the Sea Your Grace.”

Robert nodded and then turned to Ned and asked. “What news do your men have for me Ned?”

Ned was serious and grim at the best of times, during times of war Robert had learnt that his friend became even more serious and grim. “There has been some advancement in the traps we set Your Grace. Lord Ullrick sent word that he managed to apprehend a group of five men who swore themselves to the Black Heart and they report that the man is trying to distract us from the main body of his assault. The party near Rain House will be no bigger than some twenty men. The main force sailed straight from the Stepstones and will be heading this way in around three days; they will number some 4000 men.”

Robert laughed then, a great booming sound. “Ha, it seems I have overestimated how many men this Black Heart would bring to the table. Ach well, there will be some reward for us all in this. Lord Tywin, I want you to lead your men to the coast and take the pickings of whatever treasure this Black Heart and his men have managed to get from his raiding. Lord Hoster you and Ned shall follow me and Lyonel as we break down the Black Heart. We shall completely destroy his host and break him.”

There was some murmuring of agreement before the lords filed out, Ned remained behind though and seemed to be nervous about something or the other. Robert took a swig of wine and then said. “What’s got you so bothered Ned. You look like someone just died. Out with it man.”

“Are you sure it is a wise move to lead the assault on the Black Heart yourself Robert? And to leave Tywin Lannister in charge of taking the plunder from the Black Heart is that so smart a move?” Ned asked.

Robert looked at his friend and then laughed. “Oh Ned, I’m not going to let you steal all the glory. Your goodbrother killed Rhaegar in the last war, I am the king and I will kill the threat to my kingdom. Besides Tywin Lannister would probably suggest I keep the Black Heart alive for some sort of torture or the other, and besides he will find no gold or plunder of any worth in the ships of the Black Heart. There is nothing of note in the coast.”

His friend smiles then and laughs alongside Robert before becoming serious once more. “Tywin Lannister will not be happy when he realises that Robert.”

“What will he do? Poison me? Teach me a sharp lesson? Pah, I am the king and if he so much as threatens me I’ll fit his golden head onto a spike.” Robert says.

With that the conversation ends and they set out to meet the Black Heart in battle. The Battle of the Rainwood is a short battle but fierce and bloody nonetheless. The pirates fighting with the Black Heart know they are going to lose and that gives them the freedom to keep fighting with a disregard for safety or the normal ways of fighting. Not that Robert minds overly much in fact in revels in the feeling of fighting once more, no holds barred. Swinging his war hammer like it’s a quill he swings and swings and kills men left, right and centre, roaring with adrenaline he pushes through the throngs of bodies and fighting.

In the end it appears as if the Black Heart is not as fiercesome as his name suggests something that greatly disappoints Robert. The man is a weakling, he is cunning though and once or twice his feints manage to strike Robert on the arms, making the weight of the hammer apparent for the first time in a long while. Still Robert ploughs on smashing the man to the ground with a blow; another man swings at him so he knocks the man on the chest and kills him. The Blackheart has disappeared when Robert looks up through his helm, and he ends up beating his way through the throngs, victory is theirs that is no question but he wants the Black Heart to die by no hand but his. He swings through and up and then he is face to face with the Black Heart once more.

The man looks like a cornered animal and fights like one, and it is then that Robert sees why this man was feared on the seas, he has lured Robert into a false sense of security. Robert is on the back foot for much of their duel this time, blocking blows and parrying for his life, his hammer weighing heavily on his arm, before he manages to knock the man’s sword out his hand and then brings the hammer up once more to knock the man on the face, when the black heart falls to the ground Robert stands on his chest and raises his hammer high into the air and brings it down on the man’s face with crushing certainty. The Black Heart dies on the twentieth day of the first month of the 291st year after Aegon’s Landing and with him ends the Pirate Wars.

* * *

 

**King Aemon I Stark**

His whole life he had been raised and prepared for the day that he would become king, he had not thought that it would happen so soon after he had returned from fighting in the south. His father had always appeared to be so strong and so immortal that Aemon had thought that his father would live to the age of 100 and beyond. Then again he supposed that when one is a child one always believes one’s parents to be immortal, Aemon’s father had been a wealth of knowledge and advice that Aemon had not always tapped into, being the mother’s boy that he was. There were times when he regretted that, such as the time when his mother had gotten pregnant with the child of that foreigner and scoundrel Borros Reyne, Aemon had wanted to kill Borros Reyne there and then, what was the man thinking getting his mother pregnant at the age she was. That his mother and his half brother Maelys had survived the birth had greatly relieved Aemon, though he had since told the man that he was never to set foot in Winterfell again, or at least not when Aemon was present. If he wanted to see Maelys when Aemon was around he would have to go to the Dragon’s Hut where his mother sometimes went to stay, and that was the only time he would go to see Maelys. For Maester Aemon had told Aemon that his brother was very frail and too much exertion could cost him more than health.

The north and the islands had not been properly affected by the cousins war as the war in the south had been called, but they had experienced other changes. Balon Greyjoy had died from a fever three years ago and had been replaced by his son Rodrik as Lord of the Iron Islands; Aemon had met his cousin once or twice and thought him a cruel and sly man, someone who would need to be kept an eye on in the future. The Iron Islands though continued to hold true to the treaty that Aemon’s grandfather had signed many years ago and did not raid those houses on the mainland Westeros and only plundered and took what they needed from those in the free cities. Rodrik Greyjoy had manned the iron fleet and taken them to glory against the Pirate King’s lackey some man named Stone Eye, and had sacked the basilisk isles and other foreign countries bringing in more wealth and plunder that had been used to fortify the Kingsroad in the north and to help improve the fortifications north of the wall.

The north and the islands were also prospering due to trade, sales of timber and iron that had been found on the isles had seen gold increase and the royal treasury now stood at some implausible level, some 15 million dragons. Money that was being used to help strengthen the north’s sea defences, helping to improve the northern fleet so that they would not have to be so reliant on the iron fleet in any future wars, as well as to better improve learning and understanding amongst the wildlings, and to going towards making certain places within the north places of learning, to rival Oldtown. Aemon had heard his father speak of the need to reduce the need for dependence on the south often enough that he had come to have the funds to implement such things he had felt the need to do so.

Along with improvements in the north and the islands, there had been improvements in his own home life. Following the horrifying things that Lyanna had gone through with that rapist Rhaegar Targaryen, she had been shocked and scared of the slightest movement, and had had to fight long and hard to come back from the hell that Rhaegar had put her through. Aemon had been there for his wife, for his love every step of the way, giving her encouragement and space when she needed it, because of the pain she had gone through, Aemon had thought that she might not want to see Shiera, and so he had begun making inquiries about having the child raised elsewhere, but when Lyanna had gotten word of what he had been planning she had flown into a rage and screamed that she would not let Rhaegar win, she would not let Rhaegar take her daughter from her, and so Aemon had relented and Shiera was now growing up alongside their trueborn children. Lyanna had gotten better as time had gone by, she no longer woke up sweating and no longer thrashed in their bed. She was more comfortable around people and she had shown just how much of a fighter she truly was.

Their children had been a balm to her wounds Aemon supposed. Benjen their eldest was just like Aemon’s brother Rickon, wilful and curious always asking about things, and that he seemed more interested in books and stories and history than swords and weaponry did not truly worry Aemon, not yet anyway, after all his son did seem to pick up whatever he put his mind to relatively quickly. Their second son Brandon who was born perhaps three years after the cousins’ war had ended, was bold boy, who was always getting into some sort of mischief, which caused both Aemon and Lyanna to smile and laugh. Then there was their daughter Lyarra, named after Lya’s mother who was the perfect lady, kind and courteous. Their wolf pups who were growing up so quickly, it was frightening, soon enough Aemon knew he would have to include Benjen in the council meetings so that he could get a better understand of what was what.

Tragedy had struck Lya’s family once more, Rickard Stark who had served as both Aemon’s and his father’s high Steward had died from the winter fever some two moons ago, and as such had left behind Aemon’s sister Daenaera and her daughters Berena and Branda behind. The vultures had begun sniffing to get some sort of influence, and so Aemon had sent his brother and his strong right hand Barth to prevent the vultures from getting their teeth into the situation. Barth was the attack dog that Aemon relied on to keep any unruly bannermen in line, his brother could be quite intimating when he wanted to. And once that situation was under control Aemon had named Lord Wyman Manderly to the position of High Steward, the man was loyal and cunning and had perfect links to make sure the north continued to remain in peace.

Speaking of which Aemon pulled himself from his thoughts and brought his attention back to the matter at hand, he had called a council meeting to discuss the state of things, and so he looked around the room to see who he should ask to speak first. The council members, Lord Wyman as High Steward loyal and cunning, Lord Euron Greyjoy sly and quick thinking the High Shadow, Lord Edgar Sistark High Treasurer, Grand Maester Aemon and Lord Martyn Cassel High Admiral of the Northern Fleet were all men Aemon had known since childhood and were men he trusted. Lord Jorah Mormont the new High Justiciar was an able man but one Aemon knew not, a man who came with a good reputation, but a man who was said to be flexible when it came to a pretty face. Still Aemon would see what the man had to say soon enough. “My lords, I thank you all for coming today. It has been sometime since we last met, I would hear what news you have for me.”

Lord Wyman spoke first. “Well Your Grace, things are going very well in the realm at present. Peace is the go to word for all, the small folk praise your efforts at improving their lot, and the lords of the kingdom continue to work hard to ensure that your laws and the peace continue. In short, things have never been so good in the kingdom.”

Aemon nodded and then asked. “And how goes things with our friends north of the wall?”

Lord Jorah Mormont spoke then. “Well it seems that the measures to bring the free folk into the more civilised world is working Your Grace. The raids on places such as Last Hearth and Bear Island have become nonexistent, and any who suggest breaking the new found peace are hung out to dry by their fellow free folk and are exiled from their clans. Lord Commander Qorgyle reports that things are getting better between the Free Folk and the Night’s Watch as well, they are working towards building common cause and some of the castles on the wall are being garrisoned by men of the free folk.”

Aemon nodded and then said. “That is good. Now Lord Martyn what news from the seas? Has there been any word of what the Summer Isles are doing with regards to their ships?”

Lord Martyn Cassel a gruff man and proud shook his head and said. “No Your Grace, no word from the Summer Isles as of yet, though the messengers were only sent out some three days ago, and the ravens will take time to reach the Chiefs of the Isles. I am sure that soon enough we shall know what the purposes of their boats are. If it emerges to be a threat the northern fleet will be able to deal with it more than effectively. At last count some 100 war galleys stand at port at the Stony shore and another 100 at White Harbour.”

“That is very good,” Aemon said. “Now what news from the south Euron?”

Euron Greyjoy was a sly man, with a hand in many pockets Aemon knew, but he was also very loyal and as such had given Aemon no reason to truly doubt him. The man spoke softly. “The Iron Throne bandied together with Dorne to defeat the Pirate King the Black heart. Though both Lord Gyles Stark and King Ormond Yronwood were killed during the fighting in Dorne. As was Daemon Stark, still the Black Heart and his second in command were beaten in the Stormlands by Robert Baratheon and the pirate Salladhor Saan was killed by Ormond Yronwood. Whatever ships the man had are gone or broken, and his crews have confessed to their crimes. The south is at peace once more Your Grace.”

Aemon nodded and then asked. “And what of the east, and Volantis what happens there?”

At this Euron smiles slyly and says. “Oberyn Martell was in Volantis some three moons ago whilst the south dealt with the Pirate King, he had travelled first to Bravos and then onto Norvos and then finally to Volantis, as a ruse to keep Roose Bolton from alerting the king. He went to Volantis to arrange a betrothal between his niece the Princess Arianne and Viserys Targaryen. IN return for that betrothal, House Martell and the Marcher lords will support the Targaryens when they eventually invade Westeros.”

“And you know this to be a fact Lord Euron?” Grand Maester Aemon asked.

“I do indeed Maester.” Euron replied.

“And how would that be? Were you in the room when it happened my lord, or do you have eyes and ears everywhere?” The maester asked.

“Yes, it is my duty after all maester. Believe me when I say that the Martells are working towards getting a rebellion in the south. But that is not for our concern just now, there are rumours of trouble in the north, north of the wall to be specific. My contacts within the tribes report that a man known as the Weeper is getting wildlings together to attack the established clans and tribes for abandoning the wildling way.” Euron says.

“How successful has he been so far?” Aemon asks.

“He has had some minor success in converting the seal clans near the border with the lands of always winter into joining him, but other than that his words have fallen on death ears. It would appear the Free Folk rather like the comfort and improved standard of living that they currently enjoy.” Euron replied.

Aemon nodded and then said. “Have one of your men take the Weeper out, I do not want any more fighting to be done during my reign.”


	20. Oye Como Va

**Queen Lyanna Stark**

Life as Queen of the North and Iron Islands was an interesting one, it was one that Lyanna had been prepared for her whole life, since the moment she could walk and talk her father had groomed her in the ways of Queenship, letting her spend time with the Queen Dowager at the time Dacey Stark and letting her see what the northern court was like. The northmen and the Iron Islanders were a strong people, they had to be in order to survive in the kingdoms they had made their home, there was no room for being weak or passive, you either had to have fight or you would fall, and there would be none to pick up when you fell. Lyanna had learnt that lesson from her mother, Lyarra Stark had been a fierce woman, more of a political thinker than a warrior, it was her mother who had suggested Lyanna wed Prince Aemon, and Lyarra had taught her daughter how to think with her brain and use her natural cunning to get the things she wanted done, done to the best that they could be done.

Of course Lyanna had been wild and wilful as a child, just as her own daughters Shiera and Visenya were, and her niece Berena was, she had wanted to play with swords and given the culture that she lived in her father had encouraged her to do just that, and so she had trained with her brother Benjen when he had been old enough and before that she had trained with Ned her twin before he had gone south. She was decent with a sword but she had never truly had the patience to master the art of sword fighting always wanting to move onto the next thing and learn it, and as a result she knew how to fight with a sword, the bow, the spear and the Morningstar, she could fight passably with all four weapons but did not excel in any of them. As such she was not all that fussed about it, she admired women such as Dacey and Visenya Stark but she did not want to have to fight in war like they had done, war was a troubling thing and it did not sit well with her.

There had been times during her captivity in the south with that madman Rhaegar Targaryen that she had been glad that she knew how to defend herself, she had prayed to the gods both old and new that they give them a chance to give Rhaegar Targaryen what was his due, a sword or a dagger through the eye, something to rub that smug look off of his face. She had hated him the moment she had lain eyes on him, Rhaegar Targaryen the southern prince who thought he was too good for everyone else simply because he knew things that others did not. Lyanna remembered very well what the mad man had said to her on their ride south, of how together they would make a child who would fulfil some sort of ancient prophecy and protect the world from destruction the ravings of a mad man who had threatened her family. He had told her when she had resisted at first that if she did not submit to him he would have Aemon and Benjen killed, the thought of her husband and young son who she had not seen in a year at that point dying because of this mad man had been too much for her and so she had submitted to his lusts, and yet everytime he entered her she dreamed of killing him and seeing him to an early grave. When she had learnt that Aemon had killed him on the waters of the Trident she had sung with joy, and she had been happy even if her captors those two exalted knights of the Kingsguard had been distraught.

The only good thing to come of the whole ordeal was her daughter Shiera, at first she had been distraught that Rhaegar had gotten what he wanted, a daughter, a Visenya for his Aegon and Rhaenys and yet Sheira had been born when Rhaegar had been dead for a while, and so Lyanna had gotten her revenge in some small way naming her daughter Shiera after Shiera Seastar a woman who had come to Westeros to bring the Targaryens down in one life, her daughter had done the same with her birth. Lyanna’s daughter was aggressive and angry, hating the Targaryens with a fierce passion and Aemon had thought that she might not want to raise Shiera alongside their true born children, but Lyanna would not be parted from her daughter and so Shiera had grown up alongside Benjen, Brandon, Visenya and Lyarra and so her children were all close to one another, with Benjen and Shiera being particularly close to one another. Benjen, named after Lya’s little brother who had joined the Winter’s Guard shortly after the ending of the cousin’s war was more of a bookish lad, more interested in history and the more tedious aspects of ruling than his father had been at the same age, and sometimes Lyanna did have to admit her eldest did remind her an awful lot like Ned, with his sense of duty and honour.

Of course there had been some other developments in the personal life of the royal family in the last few years, the Queen Dowager and Lya’s goodmother Visenya Stark had given birth to another child at the age of forty three which given she had survived was quite an achievement. The child, a boy named Maelys had just recently seen his tenth nameday and was a sweet boy if a bit shy and retiring though his mother doted on him more than she had with her other children Aemon included. The father, Borros Reyne had faced a very hostile reaction from Visenya’s children, Lyanna knew that they had all seen the man as irresponsible and needing to be taught a sharp lesson, in fact Aemon had been so concerned for his mother that he had at first wanted to have the man killed or sent to the Night’s Watch, Lyanna had managed to bring him down from that harsh suggestion and had suggested that he impose restrictions on the time that Borros could see his son. Though she had not managed to convince her husband she knew that Visenya had truly only wanted to have another child to look after and care for what with her other children all being big and grown that had resulted in Maelys birth as unusual as it had been and not Borros Reyne’s stupidity.

Still that was all in the past now, ten years had come and gone since Maelys’ birth and now her husband as well as her first born son were heading of the war, north of the wall. A wildling known was Mance Rayder had managed to amass quite a large support base and had been causing problems for some of the clan chiefs; in particular those near Thenn and the Weeping Bridge, word had come from Tormund Giantsbane the new Lord of Crow’s Land that the host was gathering steam and heading south. And so her husband had called the banners and would be leaving today. Lyanna had one last lunchtime with her two boys before they left for war and she intended to make the most of it. She was in her son’s room watching him pace up and down, his direwolf Shadow following him. “You’ll wear down your boots if you keep doing that sweetling.” She teased him.

Her son looked at her and said. “I’m sorry if it’s causing you bother mother, I can stop.”

Lyanna smiled and said. “No it’s fine sweetling. It’s okay to be nervous as well you know, I know your father was nervous before he set off south the first time. But you will have the winter’s guard there to help you and your father will be there to help and guide you as well. You shall be fine sweetling.”

Her son looked at her then and said. “I know mother, it’s just that we were supposed to leave a while back and we still have not left. I want to get marching as soon as possible in order to make sure I know more about the foe we are going to face and what I can do to help father. After all he will be busy in the frontlines preparing for the battles and I simply want to be able to provide him with as much information as I can, even if I can’t truly help him in the sword fighting department.”

“I am sure you’re father will appreciate what help you can offer him sweetling. But of course I have a task for you as well. Berena and Shiera are going with you on the march north, and as much as I would rather Shiera remain here to help around, I want you to make sure that they both remain safe and sound and that neither of them do something foolhardy. They might be able to defend themselves but your sister and your cousin do not often think before they act, I want you to be the voice of reason in your group Benjen sweetling.” Lyanna says.

Her son straightens up then and looks so much like his father in that moment that Lyanna’s breathe is taken away. He sounds solemn and sincere when he says. “I will mother, I will do my utmost to make sure we are all safe and sound during the fighting. I promise you that.”

Lyanna smiles and kisses her son’s cheek. “I know you will sweetling. Now I must go and see your father and see what is taking him so long.” With that she turns round and walks out of her son’s room and makes her way down to her husband’s solar, where she sees Aemon dressed in his dark red armour, his wolf’s head helm on the table in front of him, as expected he is looking over a map of the crow’s lands, his face creased in a  frown. “I thought you were supposed to have left an hour ago my love?” Lyanna asks.

Her husband looks up then and says. “Trying to get rid of me are you my love?” he laughs then and then shakes his head and says. “No I needed to speak with my mother about something, but we shall be leaving now. I was just making sure all was ready and secure before we departed. You have been to see Benjen I take it?”

Lyanna nods and says. “He is quite nervous you know. He wants to make you proud, and he laments not being the best with swords, but I have asked him to look after his sister and cousin during the march. For we both know what Berena and Shiera are like.”

Aemon laughs then and says. “Aye that we do. Sheira wanted to ride in the van with Barth, I told her no, and said she would be riding alongside myself, and Benjen in the left. And it is good he is feeling nervous, I felt more than nervous when I rode south with my father to deal with the southerners those many years ago. Hopefully this threat in the north with the free folk will not last too long and we can be back before mother gets it into her head to start trouble in the south.”

With that her husband rolls up the map and takes her hand and walks from his solar. They make their way down to the courtyard where both her husband and her son and daughter’s horses are already saddled and waiting for them. Her husband wears dark red armour, her son dark blue armour and her daughter dark green armour. They are shadowed by their direwolves on the ground and four warriors of the Winter’s Guard on horseback, her husband nods to her and then leads the host as they ride forth from the gates of Winterfell, on the tenth day of the fourth month of the 296th year after Aegon’s Landing, Lyanna Stark Queen of the North and Iron Islands bids farewell to her husband and eldest children as they ride north to deal with the wildling rebels.

* * *

 

**Lord Stannis Baratheon**

The pirate war, the first war that had been fought since his brother had come to the throne, the Black Heart was supposedly the most feared pirate to sail the seven seas, and as such had posed quite a threat to the safety of Robert’s realm, the man had sent crews to invade Volantis and Dorne as well as the Stormlands. However, it appeared all the talk about the Pirate King and his methods and those men and women who fought for him being the ruthless and determined killers was just that, talk. The fleets sent to Dorne and to Volantis had been easily defeated and without their extra power the main fleet of the Black Heart had lacked the power to defeat the royal fleet, which numbered some 200 war galleys, as a result of this the victory at the Battle of the Narrow Sea was an easy one, something that Stannis was unsure of whether he should be proud of or not. After all he had fought the pirate king’s fleet and destroyed it, and yet Robert once again got all of the credit through slaying the pirate king himself.

The Pirate King had landed in the Stormlands and had been causing some bother raiding along the coast, before meeting Robert in battle on the ground, and once again proved why pirates made good sea fighters but terrible land fighters. Robert had told Stannis of how the Pirate King had been a poor fighter, but a cunning one and how their fight had been something that Robert wished he could do again. The man was dead and his cause with him, and peace had returned to Westeros, Robert had thrown a tourney at Storm’s End to celebrate the victory, and so Stannis had been forced to pay host to those lickspittles who hoped to gain some favour with his brother, and with those gods damned Tyrells once again muttering in his brother’s ear and his own ear about a match between Stannis’ oldest son Robb and their daughter Margaery. As for the tourney itself, Stannis was not entirely sure who had won what, not due to a lack of memory but more due to a lack of interest, his wife had told him in one of her letters later on when Stannis had enquired about it that Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer had once again one the jousting and crowned the queen, Queen of Love and Beauty.

The Queen, the woman was cold and haughty, and seemed to think everyone was beneath her. She held a lot of sway and influence over the king’s court, and that was mainly because Robert had done his best to please her and make her happy. There was one thing Stannis had learnt about his brother since becoming Master of Ships that he had not known before, his brother loved to please people and loved being praised. And so he held all of these lavish feasts and tourneys that won him the praise of the people but also brought the crown very close to debt, something that pleased the Lannister Queen to no end, as it meant that Robert had to rely on the Lannisters to fund his extravagance thus giving the Lannisters more power and say at court. If he remembered correctly half the bloody squires and attendees in court were Lannisters, it was frankly sickening. Yet despite this the Queen did not seem to be happy in her marriage to Robert, and Robert did not seem happy either, his brother had taken to drinking and whoring to a new level as of later, and though the Queen had given birth to another boy named Tommem slightly after the end of the pirate’s war, Robert still did not seem interested in his children.

The eldest Joffrey was a complete monster in the making, there was something malicious about the boy, he seemed happy to commit acts of cruelty on a whim and despite the severe reprimands that he received from Robert the boy still seemed to keep going on with his acts of cruelty. Then there was the daughter, Myrcella, a sweet girl who had her mother’s good looks but none of her personality, she was a true Baratheon, if not in appearance then most definitely in personality there was true Baratheon steel in his niece. Tommem the youngest was only five, but he seemed to be far too soft to be either a Baratheon or a Lannister, he was bullied by Joffrey, and by many of the other children at court and often clung to his sister’s skirts. The child was soft but had a good heart.

Thoughts of his brother’s children often turned Stannis to thinking of his own children. He and Catelyn, had in their thirteen years of marriage managed to have five children, three sons Robb who had turned twelve some three moons ago, Steffon who had turned eleven just the other day, Hoster who was four and two daughters, Sansa who was the image of her mother with her auburn hair and blue eyes, and Shireen who had been given his hard jaw and had also been marred with greyscale. Robb, his eldest son and heir was a good lad, a true Baratheon, a boy any man could be proud of, he was strong and smart and was good at arms, Steffon reminded Stannis of himself a stickler for duty and honour, he would be a good right hand for Robb when he became Lord of Storm’s End. Hoster was too young for Stannis to truly tell what he would be like, but he seemed to have inherited the Baratheon temper. As for his two daughters, Sansa was as ever the perfect lady, polite and courteous the sweetheart of the Stormlands, and then there was Shireen who was shy but also strove to be the perfect lady. And then there was his younger brother Renly, who might as well have been his son for all he acted a child. Renly was a smart lad when he wanted to be, oftentimes he was a jack nape and a prancing fool who revelled in court revelry and pageantry, the things Stannis found infuriating, something that was more than likely inspired by his friendship with the Tyrell boy who had come to foster in Storm’s End sometime ago.

As it was Stannis knew something was happening between his brother and the Tyrell boy, Loras that was his name, what it was he knew not, nor did he truly care, Renly was betrothed to Alynne Connington and would wed her in a year’s time. Still as Stannis watched his brother and his ward talk and jest with his sons and his cousins, he knew that sooner or later he would have to think about arranging a match for his children, as it was he was in King’s Landing and hating every moment of it. He had been summoned from his return home to attend a tourney that his brother had decided to hold for Prince Joffrey’s tenth nameday, a weeklong tourney that would not doubt further push the throne into Lannister pockets.  The jousting had been won by Ser Jaime Lannister who had once more crowned his sister Queen of Love and Beauty, and the melee had been won by Ser Lyonel Baratheon. “Where has Robb gotten to?” Stannis asked suddenly, noticing his son had disappeared from the crowd.

“I think he went off with Loras and Margaery Tyrell my lord,” Catelyn answered. His wife looked particularly lovely tonight, with her hair done up in an elaborate braid, her face was flushed from dancing.

Stannis ground his teeth together and said softly. “I hope he knows not to get into too much trouble. We have to keep up appearances after all.”

His wife took his hand underneath the table and whispered. “I am sure they are only having some harmless fun my lord. After all they are all just children, let them have their fun. I am more concerned with what the King is doing. Look,” she pointed to where Robert was quite obviously fondling some serving girl right next to the Queen. “I’m not sure how she manages to put up him, and for so long as well.” Catelyn said softly.

Stannis ground his teeth some more and then said. “She does what she must to hold onto her power, and if that means baring it when Robert shames her she does. Still their marriage is a cold one, but it is not one I wish to discuss now my lady. Now did you enjoy the tourney?”

“I enjoyed it a lot my lord, thank you.” Catelyn replied. “I also had a very interesting conversation with Lord Baelish as well whilst we were dancing.” Stannis tenses, he does not like the master of coin or how he looks at his wife, still he waits for his wife to go on. “He told me that the King wishes to host another tourney very soon in King’s Landing, in memory of your parents and the anniversary of their deaths coming up. He wishes to give some 500,000 gold dragons to the winner of the jousting as well.”

Stannis turns to his wife then and his surprise is evident when he says. “Robert has said nothing of this to myself or Renly. How is it that Lord Baelish knows about it when I, the king’s brother do not?”

“Petyr did say that the king had come to him to ask if the crown could afford to pay for the tourney, before he wished to speak with you about it.” Catelyn says.

Stannis nods and then Renly appears and asks Catelyn for a dance and Stannis is left to think of things for himself. A tourney to mark the anniversary of their parents death, that is most certainly not like Robert, in fact Stannis does not think he and Robert have ever mentioned their parents passing before, the memory is still a painful thing for the both of them, and Renly does not even remember them. Steffon and Cassana Baratheon was a formidable pair, Stannis remembers, but they were kind and loving parents. Oftentimes, Stannis has found himself wondering what his parents would make of what their sons have achieved, would they proud of the men they have become or would they shake their heads in despair?

Sansa sits down in the seat that her mother had just vacated and huffs out a breath, her face is flushed as well. “Why don’t you dance father?” she asks innocently.

Stannis looks at his daughter and says softly. “I do not like dancing sweetling. I have never been very good at it, and besides I do not want to embarrass your mother or myself with how bad I am.” The admission does not come easy to him but it is better to be honest about one’s failings than to hide behind a facade. “Still I keep an eye on your brothers and your uncle Renly and make sure that they do not get into too much trouble. Now why are you not dancing sweetling?”

“Oh, I’m tired father. I’ve been dancing with so many people I just thought I would sit down for a moment. But I have a question for you as well father.” His daughter replied.

Stannis looks at his daughter, intrigued says. “Oh? And what is that sweetling?”

“Why is that Robb, Steffon, Hoster and Shireen all have your black hair and yet I have mama’s auburn hair? Is there something wrong with me?” His daughter asks.

Stannis looks at his daughter and says reassuringly. “There is nothing wrong with you sweetling, that’s just the way the world works sometimes. But that does not make you any less Baratheon.”

“But then why do some of the people at court whisper about how Lannister the King’s children look? Why does Joffrey always go on about how he is more Lannister than Baratheon?” Sansa asks.

Stannis pauses for a moment, as a realisation comes to him, the suspicions he has had about the queen and the Kingslayer confirmed by the words of a child. He hesitates trying to think on what to say, and then says. “Because Joffrey does not think before he speaks. Now put that thought out of your mind, I believe your brother wishes to dance with you.” As Robb reappears and takes Sansa into a dance around the throne room, Stannis knows he will have to do more research and then go to Jon Arryn with his suspicions, from the mouth of babes...


	21. Sleight of Hand

**Prince Benjen Stark**

The north was a cold and unforgiving place, a place of barbarians and savages, at least that was what the southerners believed of his home. Benjen did not know many southerners but he had heard the rumours that filtered through the southern traders at White Harbour and the Stony Shore about his family, wargs all of them, himself, his sisters and brother and his father, all with their direwolves as every Stark prince or princess had had since the days of Daeron Stark the Winter Dragon. Benjen had the feeling that his powers were far more advanced than any Stark’s since perhaps his aunt Elaena or his great grandfather Lord Edwyle Stark, he could see things that none else could see, things that happened in the future, the past and present, he could see them through a variety of animals and creatures, and he knew that some would call him a greenseer, others would call him a wizard or a sorcerer and try to shun him, but Benjen knew that his family still loved him no matter what and that was what mattered the most to him.

Benjen Stark, Prince of the North and Iron Islands and heir to the Winter Throne was the oldest child of King Aemon and Queen Lyanna Stark born in the 280th year after Aegon’s Landing. Benjen could not remember much of the cousin’s war, the war that had seen both his father and his mother away in the south, his mother because of a mad man and a rapist and his father in order to find his mother and get justice for her. He remembered living in Winterfell during that time, wandering the halls alongside Berena and Branda his cousins, and he remembered feeling strangely lonely wishing for someone he could barely remember. It was due to his grandfather King Daemon that he remembered who his parents were just before they returned from the north, a baby in his mother’s hands. That baby was Shiera, a fierce girl she was, in truth she was nearly a woman grown, but she would always be a fierce little girl to him. He loved his sister to bits, but he was worried about how angry she was, and how often he had to play mediator between her and some fool who had thought to come between her and her goals.

After what had happened to his mother in the south Benjen knew that both his father and mother deeply despised the south and wished to have no more interaction with it, that was why Benjen and his siblings had been raised to learn more of the north and the lands beyond the wall, than they had of the petty southerners and their stupid southern culture, filled with its strange gods and customs. Of course Benjen’s paternal grandmother Queen Dowager Visenya Stark often spent most of her time with Benjen’s uncle young Maelys and his other uncle Rhaegon Blackfyre and that old man Borros Reyne planning for some sort of invasion of the south to put Rhaegon on the throne. Benjen did not really approve of that, as far as he was concerned his grandmother was a northerner now and should only be concerned with the north, not the bloody damned south and their gods dammed iron chair.

His father was quite passionate about the north and had done much to see to its improvement, building better roads to make it easier for the lords and ladies and the people of the north to travel the vast kingdom, he had strengthened the cities of White Harbour and Stony Shore and had increased the northern fleet four fold, trade had increased since his father had come to the throne and the royal coffers were over flowing with gold. His father was also a very strong believer in the ways of the first men, just as his father had been before him, and had done all he could to preserve the ways and traditions of the first men and those of the giants, in fact there had been reports of the number of giants increasing beyond the wall, and those giants who had come south were becoming more and more accepted in northern culture. His mother was also a strong believer in the ways of the first men and did her bit to make sure that their people’s lot in life was improved, be it through giving money to various charities or orphanages or by arranging for training academies to be set up in Winterfell, White Harbour, Stony Shore, or in Sea Dragon Point to enable woman and girls to learn how to better defend themselves.

Amongst his siblings, Benjen knew that he was the most calm and collected one, preferring reading and knowledge to being amazing with a sword, for as maester Aemon had often said, a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone, and after all a king can be as good at fighting as he can be, but if he knows not what to do during peace time then he will be a very bad king. Benjen intended to know all he could about the north and the other kingdoms that made up his father’s domain, in order to make sure that he would not need to employ fighting and wars to correct errors in his own policy. His siblings were much more martial in nature, Shiera and Brandon especially, Shiera with her anger and fierceness was the perfect swordswoman, and Brandon with his wildness and wilfulness was a natural at swords, Visenya too. Only Lyarra with her sweet nature and soft words was like him in some shape or manner, preferring books and songs to swords and fighting. In some sense, Benjen had remembered thinking that perhaps he had been the disappointment of his parents, and after the fighting north of the wall he was more than tempted to go with that point of view.

The north had rallied and marched north beyond the wall after news had reached Winterfell of a wildling rebellion being led by some former sworn brother of the Night’s Watch Mance Rayder, the man had managed to get some 30,000 wildlings to abandon their vows to Winterfell and follow him, in some sort of promise to remove the influence of Winterfell from the wildling culture. The man had successfully seen the removal of the Thunderfists line from ruling the crow’s lands, and as such was pushing very hard to bring more influential wildling chiefs into his plans. Benjen’s uncle Barth Blacksword had led his father’s vanguard at the battle of the Snakebite that had smashed the van of Mance Rayder’s host some three moons after leaving Winterfell, with the leader of the van some woman known as Harma Dogshead being slain by Barth, the rest of the host slain or bent of knee. After that battle, his uncle subdued the rest of the tumoultus wildlings and made sure the lands from Haunted Forest to Hardhome were safe and secure. Benjen’s first battle had come two moons after that, as they had been marching through the area manned by the fist of the First men they fought a host led by someone named the Lord of Bones, that was a bloody battle and Benjen himself had killed some twenty men during the fighting including a man with skulls and crosses on his eyes and face. From there they had fought another battle on the Milkwater against a host led by a man simply known as the Hurricane, and had won but had suffered some serious losses.

Now they were camped on the Milkwater’s most northern point and Benjen’s father had called for a war council to discuss what their next point of call should be. Those in attendance included Benjen’s uncle Barth Blacksword, his great uncle and Lord Commander of the Winter’s Guard Brandon Stark, Lord Torrhen Dreadstark, Lord Jon Umber, Styr the Magnar of Thenn, Tormund Giantsbane and Mors De Volar, a small man compared to some of the large giants present, though he himself was some seven feet tall.  Aemon’s father seemed tired and worn when he spoke. “My lords, thank you for coming. I would hear what news we have of the wildling host that Mance Rayder has left at his disposal.”

Tormund Giantsbane the leader of the scouts spoke then his voice loud and gruff, it was easy for Benjen to see why the man was such good friends with the Greatjon. “Well, my boys have reported seeing those damned eagles flying high above the northern shore of the Milkwater, close to where Lord Karstark bones were put to rest. So my guessing is that Mance has some 6,000 free folk still with him.”

“Are these just guesses Tormund? Or are they backed with solid evidence? We know what those eagles were used for at the battle of the Snakebite, and I would not want to lead my men into a trap once more.” Benjen’s uncle Barth said, his voice serious.

Tormund smiled at his uncle and said. “Aye these are backed with solid evidence Blacksword, my boys have seen the eagles and where they are flying back to. Jorrel, that one eyed bastard is leading a troop of free folk that will soon enough be coming down on us and then we shall be attacked in the sides by Mance’s host.”

“How certain are you of that Tormund?” The Magnar of Thenn asked. “Mance’s commanders have not stuck to the traditional ways of fighting by our standards, the man is using southern techniques to throw us off balance. Jeor Mormont was slain by some bastard in a black cloak on the way back to Craster’s, my son said. And his brothers are falling apart.”

“He will attack from the front not the side.” Benjen said, sure of what he had seen the night before. “He will send his wargs to the front of it all to have us attacked and then after that he’ll send in the big guns, a wall with which to break us on.”

His father’s lords were all looking at him surprised that he had spoken, after all it was not often that he spoke if at all. His father was silent for a long time and then finally asked. “Where will the first attack come from Benjen?”

Benjen is silent as he tries to remember all that his vision showed him, and then he says. “The eastern side of the Milkwater where Lord Umber’s men are stationed. He’ll send them in with much force, hoping to shatter the fold and get to you father.”

His father is silent for a long moment and then he finally says. “Tormund, you and your men shall be fighting on the east bank alongside Lord Umber. I want you both to repel as many of these gods damned nuisances as possible, bring me their leader. Styr you shall have the left of the host, fighting alongside Harrion Karstark. Barth you shall lead the Van, and I shall take the right.”

The meeting ends and then Benjen is back in his tent suiting up and putting on his armour, his direwolf by his side, once that is done, he walks outside his tent, and mounts his horse, and then he rides out to join his father. King Aemon looks every inch a king in his armour and wolf’s head helm. “Stay close to the centre son, and make sure Berena and Shiera do not do anything rash.” His father whispers to him. Benjen nods and then gets in side with his father, his uncle and namesake Benjen Stark the elder of the Winter’s Guard by his side. They wait for the sound of horns before his father signals for their part of the army to march.

The free folk rebels are largely beaten before Benjen and the rest of the right of the host arrive at the battle, bodies litter the ground like sacks, and blood has turned the Milkwater red. Still there are still wildlings keeping the fighting going, Benjen gets into the action slashing and hacking his way through the throng, his uncle close at his side, as are Shiera and Berena, he feels the sickness overtaking him once more  but he pushes it away and keeps fighting, slashing and hacking. Men fall before him, and behind him, they die screaming for their lives for people they will never see again.

The battle of the Sound as it comes to be known ends with Benjen’s father slaying the Weeper a fierce fighter who seemed to be doing much of the strategic bulk work. Mance Rayder is badly injured and surrenders, King Aemon pardoning him but sending him to the Fist to be watched by Tormund Giantsbane. Benjen is betrothed to Val, the sister of the woman who Mance has wed. Their wedding set to take place in two moons time. It has been a year since they set out from Winterfell and some things are beginning to change.

* * *

 

**Lord Jon Arryn**

He was old, he knew that, and still he did things that perhaps would be best left for younger men. Men like Ned or Stannis, men who would have the stomach to do the things that needed to be done, the things that would needed to be done to keep the Baratheon dynasty going. Jon was an old man, who simply wished to retire back to the Vale, away from the intrigues and dishonesty of court, a court filled with Lannisters, Jon had tried to get Robert to reduce the influence the Lannisters had at court, but his foster son had become good at doing what he wanted and not what needed to be done, and so the golden haired nuisances infested the court, and though Robert complained about them, he did nothing to remove them, still trying to make his wife happy. Yet Queen Cersei did not seem to even take notice of what her husband was doing, in fact she had seemed to grow increasingly disinterested with court and the realm following Prince Joffrey’s eleventh nameday, and Jon had noted that she spent more and more time with the golden haired child.

The growing influence of the Lannisters had consequences. The Osgreys of Highgarden and the Osgreys of Coldmoat were the second most powerful house in the realm, and Jon knew that they did not seem to give two figs about the fact they did owe their improvement in society to the rebellion that had put Robert on the throne. They continued to correspond with Rhaegon Blackfyre and his aunt, and they continued to build up their war chests, and the realm began to stir from a slumber, and Jon knew that sooner or later the war that would decide which dynasty sat the throne would come. Robert was looking forward to it as he had not looked forward to anything since the pirate war. War, it seemed half his life had been fought in on the battlefield the other half in court, or in the political field. He had done his best, and now he was beginning to feel his age.

The one thing he wanted to change before he either died or he was asked to step down was to turn Robert from the path of death he was heading down. His former foster son who had been so young and healthy and alive when he had taken the throne, had become crushed by the weight of the antlered crown he wore, and had given into the guilty pleasures that before he had occasionally indulged in, and the strong young man Jon could remember so clearly who had laughed easily had been replaced by a fat drunkard who bedded whatever moved and had more bastards than perhaps King Aegon the Unworthy had had. Robert seemed more interested in drinking and doing the guilty things in life than actually ruling the realm. Jon had tried many times to make him see why what he was doing was not only bad for him and the realm but also for his children, but Robert did not seem to care, he simply continued doing what he was doing, and it killed Jon to see someone with so much potential go down the darkest path imaginable. Perhaps they should have crowned Rhaegon Blackfyre when they had had the chance, perhaps then Robert would have been happier, and Jon would not have the feeling that the world would end soon enough.

There was only one positive thing in Jon’s life, that made all the hard times and the despair seem worth wile, and it was back in the Eyrie. His nephew Elbert who was also his heir, and his wife Lysa had the sort of relationship that Jon had wished for, for most of his life, a loving and caring one. It seemed Elbert truly had grown into a responsible and honourable man, he had been hot blooded in his youth, wild and wilful more like Robert than Ned, but then he had matured where Robert had not, and from what Jon had seen he was a good and devoted father. He would make a fine lord when Jon’s time came. As for his great nephews and nieces, Jon knew little about them apart from his great nephew Robert who served as his squire; Robert was a tall and strapping young lad at fourteen, a smart lad as well, someone who would earn a knighthood relatively soon.

Then there was the other issue that Jon had had to deal with for the past year. The issue Stannis Baratheon had brought before him that at first Jon had not been able to believe but after much careful thought had seemed to make sense. The issue of the illegitimacy of Robert’s children, not his bastards no, Jon was not sure how many of those there were, but they were not the source of Jon’s concern. No, the bastadry of his children with Queen Cersei were the concern. Stringent research on the part of Stannis Baratheon and some of Jon’s own findings had revealed that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommem were all actually not Robert’s but were instead the queen’s children by her brother Jaime Lannister, of the Kingsguard and the Kingslayer. Such a revelation had horrified Jon, the fact that the Queen would do such a thing to her husband and with her brother as well! Such a thought made Jon feel unclean just by thinking about it, and that she had managed to pass her children by the Kingslayer as Robert’s for so long both angered and humiliated Jon, how had he not seen it before, it had been staring him right in the face, all Baratheon children were born with Black hair and blue eyes, Stannis’ children were clear examples of this and the bastards they had visited in King’s Landing were further proof of it all.  

Once they had confirmation of their worries, Stannis had wanted to go to Robert straight away, the Baratheon lord had argued that Robert was much more likely to believe what they had to tell him if it was Jon himself who told him, but Jon was not sure, Robert had become good at blinding himself to things he did not want to know, it was possible he would not accept their words of truth. Another question Stannis had had, was whether or not they should tell Ned or not, as honourable and trustworthy as Ned was they could not tell him such a thing, not until they had told Robert, for Ned despite all his good points was painfully naive and would perhaps tell the Queen the truth of the matter and get them all killed.

Still, as the council chamber doors opened, Jon shook his head and thought that sooner or later he would have to tell Robert and then they would have to face the consequences. Jon was suspicious of the small council members and their motives now, the only two people he trusted were Ned and Stannis, the others, Roose Bolton a Lannister man perhaps, Pycelle most definitely a Lannister man, Ser Barristan a man of honour but where would he go? And then there was Baelish the master of coin who accounted for Robert’s extravagant spending, whose side was he on? Jon spoke aloud to clear his mind. “My lords, I thank you for coming. Now it has been sometime since we were all here last, I would hear what news there is of the kingdoms.”

Lord Stannis spoke first then. “There has been some activity off of the coast of the Stormlands my brother has written. He is not sure who it is that has been more active as of late, but he suspects that they might be pirates or brigands with a few ships looking to get some easy pickings. He has sent word out to Tarth and Estermont and asked them to be vigilant.”

Jon nods and says. “That is good; let me know if there is something the throne can do to assist. Now what more news is there?”

Lord Bolton speaks then, his voice soft as a whisper. “The northerners have finished putting down the wildling rebellion north of the wall. Mance Rayder has been left in imprisonment in the Fist of the First men and King Aemon Stark has had his son and heir prince Benjen married off to a wildling girl named Val, to show the wildlings that he considers them an equal people. My sources in the north report that there has been some murmuring from the northern and Ironborn lords at this, some of them hoped for more marriages into the royal family.”

Jon nods, Ned then asks. “Were there any serious casualties of this war my lord?”

Jon thinks he sees Roose Bolton smile just slightly, but then the moment passes and Bolton’s voice is even when he replies. “According to the reports I have received, Lord Rickard Karstark died of his wounds at the Milkwater, and Lord Martyn Cassel was slain during the final battle. Other than that there were no significant casualties no.”

Ned nods, Jon then asks. “And what of the menace across the narrow sea what is happening there Lord Bolton?”

Lord Bolton looks down at his notes and then says. “There is my lord hand, Viserys Targaryen and the three traitors of the Kingsguard have managed to finally complete the assembly of their sellsword company, the silver dragons it is called. It numbers some 6,000 men and has developed quite the reputation in Essos. Other than that, Daenaerys Targaryen has wed Prince Vaegor Targaryen heir to the Black Throne. Soon enough the Targaryens will look to invade.”

Jon nods and then asks. “And do we know which side the houses will take then my lord?”

Lord Bolton is silent and then says. “The might of the west, the riverlands, the vale and the Stormlands will of course side with the throne. The Golden Company would rather fight for Rhaegon Blackfyre, as to what houses would fight for Viserys Targaryen, as to that I am not sure, if this had been a year ago I would have said the Tyrells but as Lord Stannis has betrothed his son to Margaery Tyrell now I am not sure. It could be the case that Viserys Targaryen’s cause withers and dies with the Martells.”

Lord Baelish speaks then and says. “Lord Doran is dying is he not? I have heard that his gout is quite bad, his daughter Arianne still remains unwed, if the Targaryen boy were to wed her then they would have the strength of the Marcher houses behind them. But if say Prince Joffrey were to wed her then Lord Doran would not turn on his own blood.”

Jon speaks then. “What you say is true Lord Baelish. I shall speak with His Grace about the idea, but of course the Martells will want something in return, the deaths of Gregor Clegane and Armory Lorch. Whether or not Tywin Lannister will be willing to give them up is a matter that I would rather not have to worry about.”

“I am sure that Lord Tywin would consent to doing anything that his grace asks of him. After all, his grace is Lord Tywin’s son by marriage.” Maester Pycelle says.

“Of course, none were questioning that Maester.” Jon says soothingly. “Well if that is all then this meeting is at an end. Until next time my lords.” The lords all walk out of the room except for Lord Bolton who stays behind. “Is there something wrong my lord?” Jon asks.

Lord Bolton speaks softly. “There are those who are looking into the research you are doing my lord hand. I would implore you to use a taster before your meals and drinks.”

For a moment Jon tenses and wonders what Bolton knows and then he simply snorts and says. “Poison is a woman’s weapon; no honourable man would use poison where a sword would do the deed. And I know no women who would want me dead, I am not a man of large taste my lord. No, no taster shall be necessary.” With that he bids Lord Bolton good day and walks from the council chamber, later on as he lies wreathing in pain he will remember that conversation and utter the words, the clue to Robert over and over again. “The Seed is Strong.”


	22. Maneater

**King Stannis I Baratheon- the rebel king**

King’s Landing was a cesspit, a place where vipers and dishonest people lived and thrived. The Lannisters had infested his brother’s court and had proven just how viper like they truly were, Stannis often thought that with the amount of intrigues and plots the Lannisters seemed to come up with to remove everyone else from influence in court, their sigil should have been a snake and not a lion. Especially the Queen, Cersei Lannister was the biggest snake Stannis had ever met, he knew over the years that his goodsister had done many things in order to make sure she held more influence over the court and her husband than anyone else, including Jon Arryn the hand of the king. Those who came in her way were either removed from court in disgrace due to some scandal or the other, or they disappeared from court only to appear some days or months later as bodies floating through the Blackwater.

The Lannisters knew no end to their ambition, and yet it seemed that the Queen, the woman who seemed so calculating and somewhat smart had been careless with whom she had shared her affections with. Robert had done all he could to make Cersei Lannister enjoy life in the capital and to enjoy married life with him, Stannis had to give his brother credit, he had done all he could and he must have genuinely cared for his wife, and yet Cersei Lannister had repaid that kindness by giving Robert horns. Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommem, who the kingdoms believed to be the trueborn children of his brother, were in fact bastards born of incest. The truth had come to Stannis one day after something his daughter had said, he had had his suspicions for a while, but then after what Sansa had said suddenly it had all come into place and the revelations had completely horrified him. Stannis had known though, that if he went straight to Robert with what he knew and the evidence he had of it, his brother would merely laugh and tell him to go away. Others would accuse him of trying to usurp his nephew’s place in the succession and become Robert’s heir, and so he took what he knew and the evidence for it to Jon Arryn. Arryn took some time to convince, but after he had read some book or the other on the lineage’s of the great houses he became convinced and from there they worked their hardest to find more proof.

They had gathered enough proof to make it so that not even Robert would be able to hide his eyes to it when Jon Arryn died. His death happened so suddenly that Stannis was convinced that he had been poisoned, the Lannisters had spies everywhere and though Stannis and Jon had been careful to make sure they were not too obvious in what they were doing, there were always ways for the Lannisters to find out what was happening. And so Stannis was convinced that Jon Arryn had been poisoned, and just as Stannis was about to bring Ned Stark into the secret, a raven arrived from Storm’s End, announcing that there was a serious dispute between the Conningtons and the Morrigens that was becoming out of hand, and so Stannis had given his reasons for leaving to his brother and then left for Storm’s End.

As such he had been in Storm’s End for around six moons, the dispute between the Conningtons and Morrigens had been sorted within three moons, over some small piece of land that both had an ancestral claim over, minor trifles that deeply annoyed Stannis. In his absence from court, he learnt from his sources there that his brother had named Ned Stark Hand of the King, Ned Stark an honourable man but someone not suited to the duties that his predecessor had had to, Robert had named Renly as master of laws, but Stannis had asked for their little brother to remain in Storm’s End for a little while, and as such Renly had been in Storm’s End and not King’s Landing when news of Robert’s death had reached them. The great Robert Baratheon, Demon of the Trident, the Slayer of Black Heart brought low by a boar, killed on a hunting trip. From what his sources within the King’s hunting party told him though his brother had been very, very drunk when hunting and as such there might have been a chance the Lannister woman had had him poisoned. Something that was further proven when she had Ned Stark arrested for treason, for sending a raven that confirmed all that Stannis and Jon Arryn had found, the bastard who now sat the Iron Throne was not the true king Stannis was.

And yet, whilst demands for justice were sent from Blackhaven and from Crow’s Corner, Stannis remained silent he would not give away his hand just yet, Ned Stark had remained in the black cells for another moon whilst Cersei Lannister fretted over what to do, and then the boy king had Ned Stark executed and Stannis declared himself king and called his banners. All the Stormlords except for those directly sworn to Summerhall came to Storm’s End, bringing with them some 15,000 swords. Under his wife’s suggestion Stannis allowed his son Robb to marry Margaery Tyrell the rose of the Reach, and so with that marriage brought the strength of the Tyrells, Hightowers, and other prominent Reacher Houses including the Redwyne Fleet which numbered some 90 war galleys along with the 30 war galleys Stannis had managed to bring with him from King’s Landing and the 20 war galleys that were kept at Storm’s End. A significant force had mustered in Storm’s End, and in response Tywin Lannister had called his own banners and had wreaked havoc throughout the Riverlands. The Golden Tooth had seen the first point of action, then there was the battle of Riverrun where Edmure Tully Stannis’ goodbrother was taken captive, Riverrun under siege and Harrenhal under Tywin Lannister’s control, things looked dire and yet Elbert Arryn Stannis’ goodbrother had called the strength of the Vale to arms and had declared for him and was now marching to free Riverrun.

Still there were things that Stannis needed to do and as such had called a council, with his son, his brother, Lord Estermont, Lord Tarth, Lord Tyrell, Ser Baelor Hightower and Lord Redwyne all present of the major lords. All were eager for battle and for glory and so Stannis needed to know what they would suggest. Once they were all seated Stannis spoke. “My lords thank you for meeting me today, as you know the Lannisters have attacked the Riverlands and hold Harrenhal and have Riverrun under siege. Elbert Arryn last I heard was marching with the strength of the Vale to free Riverrun from the Lannisters. Now I would hear your thoughts, shall we attack King’s Landing now whilst the Lannisters are preoccupied or shall we do our bit to remove them from the Riverlands?”

Lord Tarth spoke first. “I believe we should engage the Lannister host that is camped in Harrenhal. Send forth a small probing force and draw Tywin Lannister out of his hideout, and whilst that is happening Riverrun will be freed and then Tywin Lannister will be stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

Lord Estermont voiced his agreement to the suggestion. “Aye that would be the wisest course of action, a small force to tempt Tywin Lannister into trying to chase away a threat, and then whilst that is happening we go for the jugular and take King’s Landing.”

Lord Mace Tyrell spoke then. “I believe we should send out a force of some 10,000 men to tempt Tywin Lannister away from Harrenhal Your Grace, with that force of men gone they will be expecting us to do one of two things, head for Riverrun or King’s Landing. I suggest the minute the 10,000 men are sent off you set sail for King’s Landing and take them unawares.”

“Why 10,000 men my lord?” Renly asked.

“We need to make sure that the Lannisters do not think that we are giving them an easy pass, as such we have some 35,000 men camped here itself, 10,000 men sent out from here leaves us with 25,000 men and enough men to take King’s Landing. The 10,000 men would serve as a suitable distraction for Tywin Lannister or more likely Gregor Clegane.” Stannis’ son Robb said speaking for the first time.

Stannis smiled at his son and said. “Indeed. That would be the smartest suggestion, send a force to bait Clegane into fighting and whilst that is happening Harrenhal will worry about that and Lord Elbert will send men to take Riverrun from the rear.”

“What of the defences that Robert put in place when the Targaryen boy began mobilising? Will they not be extra manned now that you are here brother?” Renly asks.

“The Lannister woman might have had them shored up, but I do not think she knows the true extent of the defences nor the full extent of their weaknesses. We shall exploit those weaknesses and we shall use the barges and the cogs to clear a path for the galleys and then we shall take the city by storm.” Stannis said.

There was various murmurs of agreement and then it was decided, a force of 10,000 men under the command of Lord Tarth would march north from Storm’s End to tempt Tywin Lannister out of Harrenhal, at the same time Stannis and the fleet he had under his command would set sail from Storm’s End and take King’s Landing. On the fifth day of the seventh month of the 298th year after Aegon’s Landing Lord Selwyn Tarth marched from Storm’s End and King Stannis Baratheon and the rest of his army set sail the same day. Before leaving from Storm’s End Stannis takes his family to one side and tells them all that he loves them dearly and that they will have their right.

The fighting on the Blackwater is heavy and brutal, Stannis has commanded a sea war twice before but he gives the main command to Lord Horton Redwyne younger brother of Paxter Redwyne. The ships crash against each other, and men fight in close quarters swinging their swords and yelling curses for the world to hear, Stannis himself observes the fighting from the distance, giving commands when needed and watching as the royal fleet, the Redwyne fleet and the Stag fleet begin to crush the bastard’s fleet, watching as the waves engulf the Lannister men and the gods seemed to have answered the prayers of his wife and daughters. The Lannister ships are destroyed and they have a clear path onto the city, the army docks in and through the reign of arrows sent down at them from the walls of the city by the gold cloaks they manage to break open the gates and the fighting proper begins.

Commanding the left of the host Stannis lets Ser Raynald Connington commanding the Vanguard charge and batter the gold cloaks whilst Lord Mace smashes through what crownlands soldiers there are fighting for the Lannisters. When Stannis leads the left through the city walls he finds that most of the fighting has been done and those that still continue to resist are broken and killed by Stannis and his men. Swinging his sword and ending lives coating the streets of King’s Landing in blood, Stannis feels nothing but justice, justice for the murders of his brother and Ned Stark and for the crimes of the Queen has been served. The Red Keep is subdued and the Kingsguard there, Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Boros Blount and Ser Preston Greenfield are all slain by Stannis’ men, Ser Arys Oakheart is badly injured and none know where Sandor Clegane has gotten to. Joffrey the Falseborn was slain during the fighting, dead of an arrow through the throat, his siblings Tommem and Myrcella are imprisoned as is their mother. Stannis Baratheon is crowned King of the South on the twelfth day of the eighth month of the 298th year after Aegon’s Landing, though he faces trouble from the Lannisters in the north.

* * *

**Ser Gerold Hightower**

He was an old man now, had been for a long time, Ser Gerold Hightower the white bull he was called for his strength in his youth, he had seen many things in his time, he had seen a great man brought low by madness, in fact he had seen two great men brought low by madness and he had been unable to do anything to stop it due to his vows. He had sworn following the cousin’s war that he would do all he could to ensure King Viserys would not fall prey to the madness that so often took the best Targaryens and turned them into mad men and raving lunatics, and so far he was convinced he had done well. King Viserys was a kind man, with a shrewd mind for politics, as well as being very skilled with a sword; the lad had fought in several battles for the silver dragons in the disputed lands earning his spurs and knighthood there. His sister Princess Daenaerys was married to Prince Vaegor Targaryen heir to the Black throne and she was a sweet girl, charming and smart, she too had benefitted from having more adult contact than her older brother Rhaegar had had.

As for Volantis as a whole, it was a hot and stifling place just as filled with intrigue and gossip as King’s Landing, except that unlike in King’s Landing where the Targaryens control over their kingdom had been slipping with the years, the Targaryens of Volantis had a firm control over their kingdom and the tributary cities such as Lys, Myr and Tyrosh that belonged to them. King Aerion the old who had died some six years ago had been a firm and just king, the man had taught Viserys what he knew about ruling, and had shown him the way away from madness and to greatness, the man’s own great grandson King Maegor Targaryen was a smart and strong king who had shown just how great man he to was, in short Gerold felt as if he and his sworn brothers had made the right move in coming to Volantis to raise the last two Targaryens from King’s Landing.

There were some things though that still haunted Gerold, in his sleep and his waking hours, the sight of Aerys burning men was installed in his brain for as long as he could remember, the sight of the men he had killed the blood he had spilled, the lies, the dishonour, Lyanna Stark’s cries when Rhaegar had raped her, all of those things haunted him and as such he did all he could to get them to stay away, deep down where he could not drag them out with a lot of prompting. He fought, he trained and he drank, and he repeated the pattern until he felt safe enough to train his charges. He knew his fellow sworn brothers felt the same, Oswell of course used his dark humour to disguise the pain he felt, and Arthur, well Arthur simply fought and fought and trained and did nothing else, in fact he rarely spoke anymore, it was as if he was determined to make up for the sins he had committed by aiding in the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark and would only speak once that had been done. As for Ser Barristan well, this sworn brother of Gerold’s had come to Volantis after being dismissed from the usurper’s son’s Kingsguard for being too old, Gerold had questioned the man at length about why he had abandoned the Targaryens, and when Barristan had replied that he had wanted to live and not die and that he regretted that move now, Gerold had been happy to accept him back into the fold.

Ser Barristan had proven useful in giving them information about Westeros as it had stood following his departure. Robert Baratheon had died killed by a boar an ironic end for the usurper, his friend Eddard Stark had been killed by his son Joffrey Baratheon for supposed treason, Joffrey Baratheon was supposedly a bastard born of incest between the usurper’s queen an Cersei Lannister and her brother the Kingslayer, their former sworn brother Jaime Lannister. Such news had shocked and horrified Gerold and his fellow sworn brothers, not because of the incest, they had served the Targaryens after all, but more because of the fact their former sworn brother would betray his vows in such a manner. That combined with the fact that the usurper had never even realised just how cuckolded he had become, suggested to Gerold that the gods were showing the way for the Targaryen restoration.

War had broken out in Westeros following the death of the usurper and Eddard Stark, the Usurper’s oldest brother Stannis Baratheon had declared himself king and had marshalled support of the Stormlords and part of the Reach, whilst the Lannister boy on the throne had gotten support from the Westerlands and House Florent and their allies. The riverlands had bled, until Elbert Arryn another of the usurper’s friends had taken the sword to Tywin Lannister and routed the man and his army in one. Stannis Baratheon held King’s Landing now, but Riverrun was still under siege and the Kingslayer was being joined by more men from his homeland. They would never face a better time to invade and so they had sailed from Volantis with the strength of the silver dragons 10,000 men in all, the second sons and some 20,000 men from Volantis itself.

With the bulk of the forces of the Stormlands either in King’s Landing or heading north to the riverlands, Gerold had decided that they would begin their campaign to seat King Viserys on the Iron Throne in the Stormlands. They had landed in several different places with the bulk of the silver dragons forces landing on Cape Wrath; from there they had branched out and now had control over Rain House, Stone Helm, Crow’s Nest and Griffin’s Roost, with Jon Connington showing them a quick way into the castle without being spotted. With the taking of Griffin’s Roost they had showed themselves to be a formidable force and as such Gerold expected that Stannis Baratheon would soon have to send men to deal with them. The taking of the Roost had also ensured the support of the Martells in their bid to put Viserys Targaryen on the Iron Throne. Lord Doran Martell a cautious man by nature, had sent his brother Ser Oberyn as well as Lords Cafferen, Dayne and Grandison to discuss their alliance.

As it was it had been agreed that in return for support from Summerhall and their sworn lords, King Viserys would wed Arianne Martell once he had taken the throne and justice would be brought to the killers of Princess Elia and her children. These were terms that the king had gladly agreed to and were terms that were seen as fair by all. Now though, they had more pressing matters to discuss, with the strength of Summerhall behind them as well as the strength of the silver dragons and the Volanteene army they had enough man power to push on but to where was the question. As such the king had called a meeting to discuss what needed to be done, apart from Gerold, Ser Oberyn Martell, Lord Jon Connington, Lord Artos Grandison, Prince Laenor Targaryen were all present. Once they were all seated the king spoke. “I thank you all for coming my lords, cousin. We have control over a vast part of the Stormlands now, and with Baratheon facing threats in the north, he most likely will be unable to do much about us until it is too late. The question I have is whether or not we should march for King’s Landing, or if we should go for Baratheon’s ancestral seat Storm’s End.”

Lord Grandison speaks then, his tone cautionary. “Your Grace, we have the Stormlands firmly in our grasp, but unless you take Storm’s End you will never be able to hold the kingdom. Take Storm’s End and you show them all that you mean business and that you will stop at nothing to do what is needed to win the throne.”

Lord Connington voices his agreement. “Lord Grandison is correct Your Grace. Take Storm’s End and the realm will shake, Stannis Baratheon will lose face with his lords and bannermen and sooner or later we shall have the men we need for a full on assault of King’s Landing. Take Storm’s End and King’s Landing will be as good as yours.”

Ser Oberyn voices his thoughts next. “Aye, take Storm’s End and the Stag will crumble and cry from pain. But the Lions will remain in the field for as long as the kingslayer’s bastards remain alive. We must deal with the lions before the Stags will fall, they are too entwined to fall without the other falling as well.”

“I agree with Ser Oberyn,” Prince Laenor says speaking for the first time. “The Lannisters remain a serious threat to both the Baratheons and to us, we cannot take Storm’s End without leaving ourselves exposed from attacks from the Lannisters. We could have allied with the Lannisters had you not been betrothed to Lady Arianne, but doing so would have seemed odd and strange to the most fervent supporters of your cause Your Grace. So we must take out the Lannisters once and for all.”

“If you expect Stannis Baratheon to thank you and then bend the knee to you for dealing with the Lannisters you are a fool and should not rule Your Grace.” Lord Grandison says rather boldly. “Stannis Baratheon will break before he bends, we must take the man out of the scene and then get his son to see reason. Take Storm’s End and Baratheon must come and face you in person as his brother would have; otherwise he risks being named a craven.”

The King speaks then and his voice is determined. “Very well then, I have heard from all of you on what to do. King’s Landing is where my crown will be won, but Storm’s End has never fallen until now. There are hardly any men left in Storm’s End and according to what our scouts say the man who holds Storm’s End is no fighter, this Renly Baratheon. Very well then, we shall ride for Storm’s End.”

And so it is that the might of Summerhall commanded by Ser Oberyn, Lord Grandison and Lord Cafferen, the might of the Rainwood houses commanded by Lord Connington, and the Silver Dragons and the Volanteene army march from Griffin’s Roost and give battle to the garrison of Storm’s End, led by Renly Baratheon. A foolish young man with more chivalry than sense, the battle rages for a little while, Gerold manages to kill young Renly Baratheon himself and the King kills two or three other Baratheons, and soon enough Storm’s End falls and Targaryen Banners are raised above the ancient stronghold. King Viserys’ campaign has just shown itself to be a true thing, and as the lords of the Stormlands, or rather those that are left bend the knee and swear fealty to the king, Gerold can hear the songs that will be sung of King Viserys III of his name, the vindicated.


	23. The Light Dies

**Lord Tywin Lannister**

The Cousin’s war had been a good thing for Tywin and his family, for one thing it had removed the problematic Targaryen dynasty with their brand of insanity and destruction and had replaced them with the far more tractable Baratheon dynasty, headed by Robert Baratheon the Demon of the Trident. Robert Baratheon had proven to be far more tractable and easy to manipulate than Aerys had, the man was more of a warrior than a politician and did everything that Jon Arryn told him needed to be done to secure his reign, at least he had done in the early days. And so Tywin had finally gotten his wish of having his daughter as a Queen, Cersei had shone brightly that day in the Sept of Baelor, setting all the others to shame, and Tywin had wished so badly that Joanna had been there to see their daughter becoming Queen, she would have been proud. Following his daughter’s marriage to Robert Baratheon, the stag king had done all he could to impress Cersei and that had resulted in there being an increase in Lannister presence at court.

This had allowed Tywin to manipulate the court and the small council, Pycelle, Bolton and perhaps even Baelish were all allies that Tywin had on the council, all of whom did their bit to ensure Lannister interests were looked after at court. It had been Cersei who had suggested the match between Cerenna Lannister and Lewyn Osgrey the heir to Highgarden, and with Robert’s eagerness to impress Cersei the match had gone through, as such though the old chequered lion Perwyn Osgrey had not approved of the match his son had and so it had all gone through. Court had become the bastion of Lannister power and influence, that Robert was a huge spender also helped them as well, for the crown was now several million dragons in debt to the Rock and as such with the war waging Tywin had cut off the debt, but he would make sure that debt was paid one way or another. With the debt hanging over his head, Robert had made sure that the Rock got tax exemptions that made sure their gold mines continued to flow and gold continued to be made.

With all the power and influence that he had at court, there were some things that were going wrong at home, despite his attempt to build an everlasting legacy for the Lannister name and make up for the horror that had been his father, the gods had seen fit to curse Tywin with a dwarf for an heir whilst his golden son remained bound and chained in the Kingsguard. Tyrion was a disgrace to the Lannister name, a dwarf who whored and gambled and did what he could not afford to do, the boy had married a whore when he had been fourteen and in punishment for that, Tywin had had his guards rape the woman and then had Tyrion do the same, a fitting lesson for what would happen to those who disobeyed his orders. All of his proposed marriage offers for Tyrion had been rejected by those whom he had offered him to, it would seem that these lords would be more willing to part with their Valyrian swords than wed their daughters to an imp, even if the imp was a Lannister. Tywin though still held out hope that Jaime would once again become his heir, and that the Lannister legacy could continue unhindered.

Amongst his siblings, only Kevan and Genna remained, Gerion had died in Lys when the pirate war’s had begun, Tygett had died of a fever some four years ago. Both of his younger brothers had in some way or the other lived up to the Lannister name and had done it proud, Tygett with his prowess in battle, and Gerion with his ability to negotiate trade at the most absurd rates, as well as having found Brightroar the ancestral sword of house Lannister once more. Kevan as always remained his staunch right hand, his vanguard in council and a good man over al Genna was always vocal in her opinions, and as such sometimes could come across as very annoying and distracting, but still Tywin loved her as he always had and made sure that she and her children were always provided for, her husband as far as he was concerned could go and die in a hole and Tywin would not shed a tear, for there would be one less Frey in the world.

Of course now there was war, and the world was turning once more. Robert Baratheon had died from a wound taken whilst hunting, killed by a boar an ironic way for one such as Baratheon to die, but still the man was dead, and so Tywin’s grandson Joffrey had become king. All would have continued as normal, except for the fact that Eddard Stark the honourable fool had tried his hand at treason and had tried to crown Stannis Baratheon as king, for some absurd reason that Cersei and Jaime had actually sired Joffrey, Tommem and Myrcella, an absurd reason nearly as bad as what the Blackfyre idiots had used to defend their own treason. Stark had been arrested and then was supposed to confess his treason and be sent north to the wall, but his grandson had ordered Stark executed, and then after that Stannis Baratheon had declared himself king.

News of Stark’s death had reached Tywin shortly before Stannis had declared himself king, and as such Tywin had called his banners expecting some sort of kick back from those actions, and when Edmure Tully had called his own banners, and the declaration of war from Stannis had come, Tywin had marched. Jaime had arrived in Casterly Rock shortly before Stark’s execution, and so it was that Jaime led the host that broke the Tully defence of the Golden Tooth and then broke Tully’s host outside the gates of Riverrun. Covering himself in glory, Tywin had left his oldest son to lay siege to Riverrun, take Riverrun and the Riverlands would be theirs. Tywin had marched for Harrenhal, destroying what resistance some of the riverlords put up, taking Harrenhal relatively bloodlessly. But then Stannis has actually moved from Storm’s End and had sent a probe force led by Lord Selwyn Tarth to attack them at Harrenhal. Tywin had sent Ser Gregor Clegane out to deal with that threat and though Tarth and his men had been slaughtered, Tywin had only later realised that it had been a trap, and as such Stannis had smashed through the defences of King’s Landing and had taken the city. Tywin’s eldest grandchild was now dead, and his other two grandchildren were prisoners. Something needed to be done.

As such Tywin had called a war council to discuss what needed to be done. Apart from himself and Kevan, Lords Sarsfield, Kenning, Crakehall and Jast as well as Ser Gregor Clegane were all present. Tywin spoke first. “What news from our scouts? Has there been any sighting of Stannis Baratheon or his men?”

Kevan spoke then. “As of yet no my lord, though there was a raven that arrived today, it appears Viserys Targaryen has taken Storm’s End and as such now plans on moving on King’s Landing. Stannis Baratheon would be fools to leave that threat go unchallenged.”

Tywin nodded and said. “And we all know that Stannis Baratheon is no fool. What else did this letter from Viserys Targaryen say?”

“He says that he will pardon all those who sided with the usurper if they bend the knee to him and provide men for him to take King’s Landing. He also says that he will free Tommem and Myrcella.” Kevan says.

“Jon Connington’s words coming from a Targaryen’s mouth, how fitting. That is a ruse, the man will never pardon House Lannister not after what we did to his goodsister and nephew and niece. No, we agree to that and we are finished. Let Stannis and Viserys fight each other, we will take King’s Landing whilst they are away. Now what news from Riverrun?” Tywin said.

“Jaime writes that Riverrun will soon break under siege, he has sent men out to scower the riverlands of food and other resources, soon enough they will break. Edmure Tully did not think before he acted, and as such his people are breaking because of it. Riverrun will fall soon, and with it Stannis will be caught hard.” Kevan replies.

Tywin nods and then asks. “Now what news of the Vale, what has Elbert Arryn done since declaring for Stannis?”

Lord Sarsfield speaks then, his voice wispy and reedy. “It would appear that the lords of the Vale have all marshalled behind Elbert Arryn and as such last time my scouts came and reported they were already passed the Bloody Gate and were going some way towards coming towards Harrenhal and laying siege to us.”

Tywin nods and says. “Very well, we must deal with the Valemen before we can free King’s Landing from Stannis Baratheon. We cannot afford a long siege, send word to Riverrun, I want Jaime to break them and then come and aid us in this fight. We shall meet the Valemen in open combat on ground that suits us.”

“Is that a wise move my lord? After all, they could just as easily link up with Stannis Baratheon and take us on two fronts.” Lord Jast says.

Tywin looks at the man and says. “I shall not have them drain our sources when we need to be elsewhere. Let them come, we shall destroy them.”

And so it is that three days later, though there has been no word from Jaime, they ride out to fight the Valemen, 25,000 men in total from the Westerlands ride under Tywin, and they go against some 20,000 men from the Vale. The battle occurs beneath the God’s Eye where once two hundred years ago the Targaryens fought each other, Tywin as is his custom fights the reserve, whilst Ser Gregor leads the van, Kevan leads the left and Lord Sarsfield leads the right. Tywin watches from atop the river mountain as the battle commences. The cries of men fighting, dying and living, all echo throughout the valley, on and on it goes. The battle rages beneath the hill and Tywin sits as still as can be, he watches as the right of the Vale host breaks as the slaughter begins, then the left enters the fray and he watches as they fight and fight, and then he sees his brother’s standard fall and he watches with suppressed horror as his brother is cut down. A squire beaten and bloody comes back to report what Tywin has already suspected. “Ser Kevan is dead my lord, the left is broken. The right is falling as well.” Tywin nods and then orders his men to charge, he will not die sitting idly by.

The charge is furious and fast, and he has memories of breaking the Reyne host all those many years ago. He swings Brightroar left and right, bringing men down with a swish of his sword, the ground is covered in bodies, and the body count simply continues to grow. On and on it goes, hacking, slashing and cutting, bodies fall to the ground, men are killed and it goes on and on. Tywin himself receives a few blows that dent his armour and some which open up wounds that cause blood to begin pouring out of him, but still he fights on, hacking, slashing and cutting. Bodies fall to the ground, men die screaming for their mothers, their fathers, their wives or their children, on and on it goes, the fighting raging and blaring, through the rain through the stream, the river runs red, as blood becomes the currency of the day.

Eventually Tywin Lannister is brought down not by any swordsman or archer, but by his horse, his horse a big black war horse trips in some blood and comes crashing down to the ground, Tywin’s feet get caught in his stirrups and as he tries to get away from the horse it comes crashing down on top of him. Some Valeman sees an opportunity and rams a spear down his eye, blinding him before there is black. Tywin Lannister, the old lion, the Warden of the West and Lord of the Rock dies on the ninth day of the twelfth month of the 298th year after Aegon’s Landing, and with him gone the Lannisters chances in the war are significantly reduced.

* * *

 

**Visenya Blackfyre**

She was getting old now, Visenya knew that, her body often ached in the mornings, and her vision was not always what it had been. Still she had time left for her family, she knew that since Daemon had died, she had not been the best mother perhaps with her other children, Maelys of course because of his frail health, had needed her full attention and as such she had given him much more attention and love than she had perhaps given her other children when they had been young. Also because of his frail health, Maester Aemon had told her that he could not be overtly strained, and as such any attempts to train him martially where not possible, and surprisingly she did not truly mind, not as she would have done had Maelys been born when she was younger. That was also something that provided something of a interesting situation with her older children particularly Daenaera, who herself was a mother now, to a woman who was quite wild and martial in nature.

Her children were all grown now, Aemon had become the best possible king and heir that she could have imagined smart, kind and martially strong, Aemon held a sort of aura that Visenya had seen her son’s great grandfather have, and as such she was not surprised at the fierce loyalty that her son had from his bannermen. Daenaera was a proper lady, smart, courteous and brave, her daughter though not martial knew how to defend herself with words and actions. Delena was her most martial daughter and perhaps the daughter who was most like Visenya herself. Barth was still an angry man though he seemed slightly softened by his own wife and children, still it was hard for her to truly understand him and that was something that hurt her somewhat. Then there was Rodrik the son who joined the Night’s Watch and had largely avoided her notice for some time, she regretted that. Rickon Prince of Hornwood remained bookish and aloof from most of what happened in Winterfell, Dacey was a fierce woman who reminded Visenya a lot of her former husband Daemon in her mannerisms and actions. Maelys, her little babe was sweet and kind, and very knowledgeable on things that would put grown men to shame.

Of her grandchildren, Berena and her namesake Visenya reminded her a lot of herself as she was when younger, fierce, proud and stubborn they would make wonderful warriors when their time came. Benjen the heir to the north worried Visenya somewhat he was not very martial, he was more bookish than even Rickon had been, and Visenya worried whether he would be able to keep the loyalty of his lords once he returned from beyond the wall. Visenya did not really know her other grandchildren preferring to spend most of her time with Maelys, Borros or planning the eventual war that was going to come, she did not have the time to get to know her other grandchildren not when it was likely that she would never see them again, it would spare them all a lot of heartache.

When news had reached Winterfell and the north of the death of one of their own, there had been outcry and demands for them to march. Eddard Stark might have spent much of his time in the south, but he was still a Stark and the north was in his blood and that of his children, and the northmen were nothing if not loyal to those with Stark in their name. Aemon had wanted to march south as well, but then the wildlings had rebelled once more, Mance Rayder had betrayed the oath he had sworn to Aemon and rebelled, and had gathered considerable support to do so. And so they had had to leave it to Stannis Baratheon and the other southerners to tear themselves apart before something could be done. As such Stannis Baratheon sat in King’s Landing, and Tywin Lannister and his brother Kevan were dead slain by the Valemen. Viserys Targaryen sat in Storm’s End and waited, and meanwhile Jaime Lannister continued to lay siege Riverrun.

The time would never be more perfect for them to attack and see to it that Rhaegon sat the Iron Throne. The south was in chaos, and only a Blackfyre could bring the kingdom back together, the Baratheons had proved themselves incompetent, Viserys Targaryen seemed to be more and more like his father according to what Visenya’s spies had to say, and the Lannisters only had a child to help them to the throne. Rhaegon was a man grown with a grown son of his own, a proven battle commander and someone who would know how to rule and rule well. Yes the time was more than perfect for the final Blackfyre war to begin. Visenya had spoken to her allies in the south and they were mobilising now, and she had spoken to houses in the north that were interested in getting some sort of reward or riches from the south and had found Houses Manderly, Blackwood, Reyne and Greyjoy to be the most interested.

Both Aemon and Benjen had not been happy with what she was planning, but as she had sat them down and told them. “True Blackfyres don't die peacefully. We die slowly in agony or from a quick kill, but we never leave this world without taking as many of our enemies with us as we can. I will die on this campaign, in the gravest of agonies, and die gladly, that my family might show the world that the Dragon has not forgotten. "We bear the Sword," are our words. We live by the sword and all who would truly call themselves Blackfyres must seek to die by it. That, Benjen, is what it means to be a Blackfyre and why I will never be content to die peacefully as a Stark. Now I go to avenge my kin and meet my brother. Wish me luck."

After that, her son and grandson had reluctantly allowed her to go and so she and some 3,000 men from the north had sailed from the Stony Shore with help from the Greyjoy Fleet, and had landed in the shield islands, where they had been greeted by the lords of the shield islands who had all pledged themselves to Rhaegon and acknowledged him as the rightful king. From there they had sailed up the Mander to Highgarden where they had been greeted by Lord Wilbert Osgrey the Lord of Highgarden and the Warden of the South following his father’s death. Lord Wilber and his bannermen those who had not gone for the Lannisters or to the Baratheons had sworn themselves to Rhaegon at Highgarden. With that done they now had to do the planning for the first few battles that would be coming their way soon enough. As such a council had been called, Rhaegon, Visenya, Lord Wilbert, Lord Terrence Osgrey the lord of Coldmoat, Lord Samwell Tarly, Lady Arwyn Oakheart, Lord Borros Reyne and the other lords who had sworn themselves to Rhaegon were all present. Rhaegon spoke first. “I thank you all for coming today my lords and ladies. Before we turn to discussing our plans for the upcoming battles I would hear news from the war currently being waged.”

Lord Samwell Tarly, not a warrior but a smart man nonetheless spoke first. “Well Your Grace, as you know Tywin Lannister and most of his men were butchered at the Battle Beneath the God’s Eye by Elbert Arryn and the Valemen, those who were left retreated in an orderly fashion led by Ser Gregor Clegane to aid in the siege of Riverrun. Riverrun is very close to breaking at present, my sources tell me that soon enough their food supplies will run out. In the south, Stannis Baratheon gave battle to Viserys Targaryen in the Kingswood. Baratheon was slain and Targaryen was injured, and as such the Targaryen forces were forced to retreat to Bronzegate.”

There was some murmuring at that and then Lord Wilbert spoke his voice calm. “Well with the old lion dead the Lannisters and their boy king are as good as finished. Jaime Lannister is many things but he is not patient he will likely break his host to bits smashing on the walls of King’s Landing, and the Valemen will see to it that he breaks before he reaches King’s Landing. Stannis Baratheon’s death makes things much more interesting, with his death and Storm’s End still under Targaryen control, perhaps we can reach out to Robb Baratheon, the boy who is now king? If we can get him to bend the knee to you, your grace in return for keeping Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of Stormlands then we would have significant support.”

“So you would suggest rewarding a house that has always been traitorous towards its rightful king and always supported the Targaryens in return for support that should rightful be his graces? What sort of message would that send?” young Robb Reyne asked.

“It would show that his grace can be merciful, after all it is one thing to serve fire and steel to those who rebel against you, but for those who are on their knees begging for help you raise them up, dust them off and give them the hand of friendship. If his grace does this for the Baratheons, we will have their undying loyalty, and with it we will get the Stormlords and we can then end the Targaryens once and for all.” Lord Wilbert replied.

“What Lord Wilbert says makes a lot of sense. I want a raven, or ravens sent out to King’s Landing extending the hand of friendship to Robb Baratheon, get him to bend the knee and he will get the aid he needs to rid himself of the Targaryens.” Rhaegon says his voice firm.

“What of the Lannisters? There are still too many of those golden haired shits around. They must be dealt with as well if we truly want make the way to the throne clear for you, Your Grace.” Borros says the anger plain in his voice.

“We must needs give Jaime Lannister and the Lannisters a need to leave Riverrun, and come running back to the Westerlands otherwise we shall always be stuck here. Attack the Westerlands and we shall have the reason we need, there’s nothing a Lannister fears more than an attack to his gold.” Visenya says

Her nephew looks at her for a moment and then turns to look at Lady Oakheart. “Red Lake is the traditional seat of many a battle between the Reach and the Westerlands is it not my lady?” when the woman nods Rhaegon continues. “Very well, Lady Oakheart I want you to work with Lord Terrence raid along the lake and then head towards Crakehall. Provide the distraction, and the majority of our forces can then storm along the path paved by your forces, and we shall meet the Lannisters on their own territory but we shall meet them with our full might. Bleed their strength and we shall have them on a knife’s edge.”

“When do you wish for this to begin Your Grace?” Lady Oakheart asks.

Her nephew looks at them all and then says in an ominous tone. “In two days time you shall march. Set the Westerlands on fire, and bring us the way to end the Lannisters and all shall be as it should have been for many years now. Let us show them that it is not just the north that remembers.”


	24. Bobby Jean

****

**King Robb I Baratheon**

Growing up in Storm’s End, Robb had managed to experience a lot of life’s comforts, being nephew to the king also meant that many people were much nicer to him than they were to others. Robb had grown up having the best of what the world had to offer, the best martial trainers, the best teachers for the skills he would need to have as the future lord of storm’s end. All in all life was good for him and his family, his father and mother were caring and loving, and his siblings were good, Robb had enjoyed his life at Storm’s End and then Lord Arryn had died and things had very quickly gone south.

Robb’s father Stannis had returned home to settle a dispute between two of his bannermen, and Robb had thought that his father would then return to the capital, but when news of Lord Arryn’s death reached Storm’s End, Robb’s father had become very solemn and grim, even more so than he already was. A few days after that Robb had been summoned to his father’s solar, where both his mother, father and Uncle Renly were seated and he was told that his cousins, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommem were all bastards and were the children of the Kingslayer, the arrogant Jaime Lannister. Robb had been shocked and horrified at this revelation, he had always wondered how it was that his cousins seemed more Lannister than Baratheon, when all the other Baratheons that Robb had known in his life were like him in terms of appearance; his father’s explanation had made sense then.

Shortly after that Uncle Robert died whilst out hunting, and Eddard Stark was imprisoned and Robb’s father declared himself king. With that declaration war had broken out, and the banners were called, Loras, Robb’s closest friend had managed to get his father Mace Tyrell to bring the Hightowers, the Redwynes and other men were sworn to the Tyrells to Robb’s father’s cause. Robb had married Margaery Tyrell, a girl he had met many times before and liked a lot, and from there they had ridden for war. Robb quite liked his wife, Margaery was but a year older than him, she was smart, nice and sweet, but could also be very cunning and sly when she wanted to be. Robb found that he enjoyed her company and particularly enjoyed their night-time activities, though of course he could never actually openly admit to that in front of either his parents or his goodparents! Margaery was with child as well and as such had remained behind in Storm’s End alongside Robb’s mother and younger siblings when he had ridden for war alongside his father. But once King’s Landing had fallen she had come by ship alongside Robb’s mother and brothers and sisters, with his uncle Renly remaining behind in Storm’s End as castellan.

The war itself had been fought from the moment that his father had declared himself king, Tywin Lannister had called his banners and had gone raiding and pillaging in the riverlands, with Robb’s grandfather Lord Hoster unwell, his uncle Edmure had taken command of the riverlands forces and had been defeated first at the battle of the Golden Tooth and then outside the gates of Riverrun. Riverrun had been under siege for the past year, as far as Robb could tell his mother’s ancestral home would be able to last under siege for a little while longer, still there was a lot of pressure on him to do something about that. He was just thankful that he no longer had to worry about Tywin Lannister. His uncle Elbert had called the Valemen and had marched on Harrenhal giving open battle to the Lannister forces under Lord Tywin. The old lion was slain beneath the God’s Eye, and his men or what little were left of them fled to Riverrun to aid in the siege there.

Whilst that was going on though, Viserys Targaryen had sailed across the narrow sea and had begun taking castles in the Stormlands, putting more pressure on Robb’s father to act and do something that might ease the pressure on him and their forces. The fall of Storm’s End was what had prompted King Stannis to move from King’s Landing, taking what forces he had with him he had marched from King’s Landing and given battle to Viserys Targaryen in the Kingswood. King Stannis was slain by Viserys Targaryen in the woods of the forest but not before seriously wounding the Targaryen pretender, forcing the man to retreat. With his father’s death, Robb had been crowned king by the High Septon, and his uncle Elbert had arrived in King’s Landing with the might of the Vale behind him, and had been named regent by Robb’s mother.

 Robb was unsure if he truly wanted to be king though, he was not prepared for all the weight and burden that was placed on his shoulders as a result of the stag crown he wore. People expected him to make life altering decisions for them that would affect the whole of the kingdom, not just the people of the Stormlands. There were times when he often felt like crying or running to his mother as he had done as a child, but he was not a child anymore, he was fifteen; nearly a man grown, with a child on the way, he had to act like a man and a king. His father would never have shirked from his duty and neither would he, he attended the council meetings and he attended court sessions, he learned how to play the game as his uncle Elbert called it, and he kept tabs on the former members of Joffrey Waters small council.

Petyr Baelish a sly snake and cunning had been imprisoned for taking from the crown, and was awaiting trial once the war was done, Roose Bolton had been slain during the taking of King’s Landing his son Domeric was much nicer and more tractable, and was working on nullifying the Velaryon threat. Pycelle had been removed from office, and replaced by Gormon Tyrell, Joffrey’s acting hand some sot named Lancel Lannister had been killed during the fighting, and had been replaced by Robb’s own goodfather Mace Tyrell who was doing a good job at running the crownlands.

Still when news of the Blackfyres arrival in the south, and the declaration of the Osgreys and the majority of their bannermen for Rhaegon Blackfyre, Robb was once again debating just abdicating the crown and declaring for Blackfyre. An offer had come through from Highgarden, writ in Rhaegon Blackfyre’s hand, offering terms for an alliance, should Robb bend the knee and recognise Rhaegon as his rightful king, then Robb would keep Storm’s End and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and Blackfyre would send help in removing the Targaryens from the Stormlands. It was an offer that Robb was seriously considering accepting, and it was one that both his mother and uncle Elbert wished to discuss hence why they were in his room now. “It is a decent offer, bend the knee and I keep my head and Storm’s End. Plus it means that no more people need die on our side for something I do not want.” Robb said.

“You would have your father’s death be in vain then Robb? Your father did not fight and die so that a Blackfyre or a Targaryen could sit the throne. He fought so that the true king of Westeros could sit the throne. That was him and that is now you.” His mother said.

Robb sighed and said. “I never asked for this mother. Father would have wanted me to do what was right, and he would have told me to only fight for the throne if I truly desired it. I do not desire the throne, besides our claim comes through my great grandmother who was a Targaryen, by that logic I should support Viserys Targaryen and yet after what he has done to our home and what he wishes to do to our family I do not think that would be a good idea.”

“But then what guarantee is there that Rhaegon Blackfyre will keep to his word? The Blackfyres have tried for years to get the throne, but they never succeeded, and they know that House Baratheon always supported the Targaryens, what is there to say the man will not have a change of heart and decide to have us exiled or removed?” his mother replies.

“It makes more sense to support Rhaegon Blackfyre than to go for Viserys Targaryen. Targaryen has made it clear what he wishes to do to us, Arryn, Baratheon, Tully you name it he will have us all on spikes if he wants. Furthermore, it makes it easier for us to fight on one front instead of two. We can’t afford to keep waging two wars at once, Rhaegon Blackfyre is luring Jaime Lannister and his men away from Riverrun, and as such we owe him one. It might not be honourable, but now we must do what we must to survive.” Lord Elbert says.

His mother sighs and then says. “I suppose that does make sense when you say it like that. It might not sit well with my father or with me, but we must do what we must.”

Robb nods then and says. “So I shall write back in the affirmative to Rhaegon Blackfyre, and accept his offer. We must tread very carefully now with the council before announcing my abdication, Mace Tyrell might not be happy but it is what is best. We must also figure out how to get back to Storm’s End before the danger becomes evident.”

* * *

 

**Lord Jon Connington**

The bells chimed at night, they chimed during the day, they chimed all the time, it was enough to drive a man mad. There had been times during the past sixteen years that he had thought he was going mad, or already was mad. But then something would come and remind him that he was not mad, no the gods had not seen fit to give him even that one last bit of reprieve. And so the bells tolled, and they tolled, and they tolled, and sometimes as he slept, he saw the sword that broke his swing, broke his stride just as he was coming close to killing Robert Baratheon, something had gotten in the way and he had been sent from King’s Landing in disgrace. An exile, his family had lost half of their lands to Eddard Stark and had lost much of their prestige following the end of the Cousin’s War.

Jon had wandered round Essos for a good three or four years before he had joined the Golden Company, the company housed in Tyrosh and commanded by Prince Jonnel Stark a legend in himself had kept Jon busy for the next five years, fighting the pirates, fighting in the Disputed Lands the battles had done much to ease the pain he had felt, the anger and the desperation he had felt at times. Prince Jonnel Stark had died some three years after Jon had joined the company and Myles Toyne had become Captain General of the company, and they had grown close, but now Toyne was dead and Homeless Harry Strickland was in charge and the company was in Westeros once more fighting for Rhaegon Blackfyre.

Jon had left the company some two years after Toyne had been named captain general, mainly because the life of a sellsword though it paid well was hurting his honour and worsening his drinking, he left and wandered around the free cities on the western coast of Essos for another year or two before finally joining King Viserys in Volantis. Viserys Targaryen was a good man, sharp, cunning and smart, he knew where his family had made mistakes in the past and he was determined not to repeat them again. As such Jon had seen the boy more like what Rhaegar had been before the Stark slut had come into his life. Rhaegar, his silver prince haunted his every waking hour and still there was barely any time where he could remember what his prince looked like anymore, taken before his time.

Still the Baratheons and Lannisters had torn the southern kingdom of Westeros in half, Stannis Baratheon had taken King’s Landing from the Lannister boy, and had ruled for half a year before he was killed by King Viserys, the man’s son sat in King’s Landing, scared and unsure of what to do. Jaime Lannister continued laying siege to Riverrun, though Rhaegon Blackfyre was burning the Westerlands, taking gold and plunder, the Reach was behind Blackfyre, the Vale behind Baratheon, and Viserys, Viserys had the silver dragons, the Marcher Lords and various minor houses in the kingdoms. The war was going well, they held Storm’s End, Renly Baratheon was slain, as was Stannis Baratheon, the Florents and their strength had joined them at Storm’s End, and the Stormlords who were angered by the Baratheons, or were simply ambitious had joined them as well.

Still there were things that needed to be done, the King was still quite injured, Stannis Baratheon was a fierce fighter when tested it seemed, and the king had not truly gotten used to the heat of battle and had gotten carried away with his swings and thrusts and parries. The king recovered in Storm’s End and they waited for reinforcements, Jon brooded, his cousin Alynne had been betrothed to Renly Baratheon but with the man’s death she had been freed from the betrothal, and Jon had seen her wed to Prince Quentyn Martell the heir to Summerhall. The king had told Jon that once King’s Landing was theirs and the pretenders had all been dealt with he would have Jon wed Sansa Baratheon and become Lord of Storm’s End. The king intended to put the Baratheons apart from Sansa to the sword, and as such Jon Connington was not sure what to make of that. His supposed bride to be was in King’s Landing with her brother, and yet the king seemed convinced that soon enough she would be in their possession.

Being in Storm’s End waiting for the king to recover had given Jon time to deal with some of the demons that had been haunting him for some time, ever since he had failed at the battle of the bells. He had asked Arthur and Oswell two men he had been friends with back when Rhaegar lived, what had possessed his silver prince to fall for the Stark girl’s seductions, and the two men had looked greatly pained as they replied that Rhaegar had kidnapped the girl and had raped her continuously as she begged him to let her go. It seems that Jon had not known his silver prince well at all, for Arthur had said with a haunted look in his eyes, that Rhaegar had become obsessed with some prophecy or the other during his last days and had been convinced that Lyanna Stark was the only way to achieve what he wanted to achieve. Jon had been shocked that Rhaegar, a man who was so dedicated to his duty would abandon it in such a fashion, he had had difficulty believing that for the longest time, it was only when Arthur gave him one of the journals that Rhaegar had written that he had truly believed it. The words written on the pages, were the words of a mad man, or a man who had lost his senses, in some way it was like Rhaegar had become worse than Aerys and in that way, Jon had become disillusioned with his silver prince, but also wanted to understand, but he could not.

Still for now that was not his concern, the king had called a meeting to discuss their next move and as such, Jon, Ser Gerold, Ser Oberyn, Lord Cafferen, Lord Grandison, Varys the Eunuch and Lord Florent were all present in what had once been Lord Stannis’ solar to discuss what to do. “King’s Landing remains untouched, we must have the city before we can deal with the Blackfyre pretender. I must needs know how we can take the city without damaging our forces too greatly.” The king said.

“Well, the lords of the crownlands are tired and broken, they lost many men fighting in the riverlands and again in the Kingswood, many of them will likely bend if pushed hard enough. It would be a simple enough task to do just that Your Grace.” Lord Florent said.

“How so? The lords of the crownlands were loyal to Robert Baratheon, and some say that Robb Baratheon is like his uncle in the sense that he can win over potential enemies and turn them into allies, he has done that already with the Boltons and the Rosbys, they are the two most powerful lords in the crownlands and might have served Your Graces interests put they do not now.” Ser Oberyn says.

“What of the Velaryons? Monford Velaryon has done nothing since the war began, but he has begun moving his fleet round the gullet surely they can be persuaded to join us?” Lord Cafferen asks.

“Velaryon is prudish and cautious that much is true, if it were his father then I would feel more confident that we could sway him to your cause Your Grace. But the man did his service under Robert Baratheon and was raised high by Baratheon, he will feel more loyalty to the Baratheons than to you Your Grace.” Lord Florent said.

“There are those in King’s Landing who still hope for your return Your Grace.” The eunuch said his voice sly. “We can use that to our advantage and have it so that the gates of King’s Landing are open for you when you arrive. There are those of us here who still have friends at court from before the cousin’s war.”

“What do you mean my lord?” the king asks.

“He means that there are honourable ways to get into King’s Landing and there are dishonourable ways like the methods that the Lannisters used to get into King’s Landing Your Grace.” Jon says unable to remain silent anymore. “And what more news do you have Varys, the last time you smiled like that was before Harrenhal.”

The eunuch titters and simpers. “My sources tell me that Robb Baratheon has abdicated his claim to the throne and has declared for Rhaegon Blackfyre. They say he will remain in king’s landing to hold the city for Rhaegon Blackfyre, and yet Blackfyre remains in the Westerlands, I would recommend using that as the way forward Your Grace. Fly the banners of the Black Dragon and then do as the Lannisters did and take the city by force and show your strength.”


	25. Cusp of Eternity

**King Benjen III Stark**

Being married was a strange feeling for Benjen, oftentimes he had seen his father and mother interact around one another and he had often wondered what that would be like, what it would feel like to have someone with whom you could talk about your most intimate feelings and not worry about what judgements they might be making of you. Benjen was close with his siblings, Shiera especially, but there were some things that he often felt like he could not discuss with his siblings, some things that he felt were just too personal to discuss with his siblings or his parents, and whereas in the past he had gone to his uncle Barth to speak on these matters, since he had become a man he had increasingly found it harder to speak about these things to anyone. After the first failed wildling rebellion, his father had told him that he would be marrying a woman of the free folk known as Val, whose sister was wed to the rebel leader Mance Rayder. Benjen had thought nothing of it, he had no previous love interest to mourn, no proper prior experience with women though he had kissed girls before he was not like Donnel or Bennard who had already slept with girls. This had therefore meant that when he had met Val he had been quite shy around her and had not known what to say to her, but as time had gone on and he had actually gotten to know her he had opened up a bit more and they had become friends, they did not love one another not yet at least but they were good friends, and there was an intimacy there that Benjen had been looking for, for most of his life.

Of course he had wondered how his wife would feel about riding north to deal with the rebellion being led once more by her goodbrother, he had asked her and she had merely replied that whilst her goodbrother Mance was a good man he had little sense in his head, and as such she did not mind putting him to rights, so long as her sister and nephew were kept safe she did not mind. That was where they were different, Benjen would have felt completely uncomfortable with having to put down a rebellion if it was led by family, for he knew what would happen to Mance and he felt guilty about it and horrified about the potential of having to have a bloody conflict. Val on the other hand, seemed not to relish it but seemed to accept what she had to do, and what would be expected of her, and it seemed that attitude had gotten her many admirers both amongst the men and women of the northern court.

The rebellion itself had been going on for almost a year now, and as such had cost them much in the way of men from the actual lands north of the wall. Mance Rayder had actually declared himself king beyond the wall, and had managed to garner some 20,000 members of the free folk to his banners, and they had gone on a raiding spree around Thenn and the lands of the marches. There had been battles between the wildlings and when news of the Magnar of Thenn’s death had reached them there had been a feeling of despair, Styr was a fierce warrior, a loyal member of the free folk and someone who they had counted on crushing early rebellions, his death had left his son the untested Sigorn in charge and as such the man was finding it hard to adapt. As such Mance Rayder had managed to smash the Thenns at the battle of the oxfeed, destroying their men and taking their holdfast as a base of operations, from there the man and his growing contingent had moved onto the Frostfangs where Mars the giant had been slain, brought down low by arrows and such. Rebellions had broken out amongst the giants and many of them had slain each other, such destruction had greeted them as they made their way through the passes.

Eventually Mance chanced to meet them in battle, sending his right hand man a wildling known as Jarl to lead his left and battle had occurred in the Milkwater passes, a fierce fight where many men and women had died but eventually the free folk under Jarl had surrendered though not before Jarl himself had been brutally killed... by Val. Benjen could still hear the screams of the dying and he knew they would haunt him until his dying day, he would never understand how people could enjoy fighting, or the killing that came with it, it was something that he could not comprehend nor something that he could truly want to understand. From the Milkwater Pass they met Mance Rayder at the Boneway crossing, and a fierce fight ensued there, though Mance and some 5,000 of his troops managed to retreat.

It was at this battle that Benjen’s father Aemon had died, from his wounds, they had festered and had not healed despite the tending they had received from the maesters and healers they had with them. Aemon Stark had died not with a sword in hand, but feverish and sweating, calling out for his wife, but Queen Lyanna was many miles away in Winterfell with Benjen’s other siblings. With his father dead, Benjen was now King and as such it was his duty to oversee his father’s last rites, he had had his father’s body burned and his ashes put into an urn to be sent back to Winterfell. His mother and siblings would be devastated at his father’s death, Shiera would especially considering how close they were, Benjen himself had felt numb, for the longest time people would offer condolences and he would merely nod and accept them, but he would feel nothing. His father had died fighting to end some senseless rebellion, it made no sense to him, his father should have died an old grey man with his wife and children and grandchildren around him, not here in the cold.  After the numbness came the anger, and Benjen had sworn himself to vengeance, he would make Mance Rayder pay and he would slaughter any who got in his way.

He had called a war council to assess what their next move should be and where Mance Rayder would be. Those who attended were the Greatjon steadfast in his loyalty as always, Tormund Giantsbane equally steadfast, Lord Galbart Glover, Lord Harrion Karstark, Lord Torrhen Dreadstark, Lord Brandon Cassel, Sigorn the Magnar of Thenn, The Under the king of the giants and of course Benjen’s wife Val. Benjen swallowed and then spoke. “We all know why we are here, the traitor Mance Rayder and his band of outlaws remain free to do as they please, I will see them ended and I will see justice done for the hell they have put my people through. The question is where would one such as Mance go?”

Val spoke then, her voice clear and determined. “Dalla often said that Mance was quite the dreamer and would often venture many miles north to see what lay beyond the shivering river, though he would never tell her what he saw on those days when he came back, except that he had found a powerful place to hide from the world. He might have gone there.”

The Greatjon snorted slightly. “Begging your pardons Your Grace, but surely Mance Rayder is not so big a fool as to go to a place where he knows that you would tell his grace of the moment you had the chance to? Surely he will go to somewhere we would not expect him to go?”

“And where pray would he go Lord Umber if not to the place that is the furthest up north any sane man or woman would go?” Tormund Giantsbane asked. “You don’t think Mance will be bold enough to go to the Fist do you? My lads will have his balls in a vice if he did, no, he will go to that hideout of his and wait for us to die of boredom, I say we head north immediately and take him and his bandits out as soon as possible.”

“He might be expecting us to do that though.” Lord Brandon Cassel said. “He might be planning on us following that hunch, and be laying a trap for us along the way. We have lost one king already to his actions, we cannot afford to lose another, not with the way things are going south of the wall, and with Jeor Mormont not doing well after that last battle.”

“How is Lord Jeor doing?” Val asked, concern lacing her tone, Benjen knew his wife liked the old bear.

Lord Jorah Mormont the man’s son said. “He is doing better Your Grace, he sleeps most of the time, but I am not sure if he will be ready to march north anytime soon.”

“It does not matter. Lord Jorah I shall be leaving you in command of the reserve, you are to remain here and await my word. I shall be taking the van and the right with me to this place of Mance’s. Lord Brandon you shall hold the left and head towards the Frostfangs to clear up the mess left behind by the Raiders.” Benjen says. “Now where is this hideaway my lady?”

If his wife is surprised by his directness she does not show it and says. “It is right on the border with the Lands of Always Winter, about thirty leagues from here as the crow flies. If anything, Mance will have his troops spread out on the pass waiting for us, and they will be armed with rocks and boulders ready to throw them at us at the slightest hint of movement through the pass.”

“Then we shall need a distraction.” Benjen says. “Under, as much as I hate having to do this, I need you and your brethren to cause a distraction that will get these boulder pushers killed and away from the main battle.”

The Under nods and grunts his approval and so it is decided. A day later Brandon Cassel rides out for the Frostfangs with some 6,000 men to deal with what raiders are left in the Frostfangs, with him goes Torrhen Karstark of the Winter’s Guard. A day after that, Benjen and the right commanded by Benjen and the Van commanded by the Greatjon ride out leaving some 4,000 men under the command of Lord Jorah Mormont. Three warriors of the winter’s guard ride out with Benjen, his uncle and namesake Benjen Stark the elder, Theo Wull known as Buckets and Ser Mark Ryswell. Lord Commander of the Winter’s Guard Brandon Stark rode south with Benjen’s grandmother to avenge his friend Lucerys Blackfyre, and Jory Cassel, Lawrence Snow, Beren Hornwood and Benji Blackwood remained behind at Winterfell to guard the rest of Benjen’s family.

It takes them some four days to arrive at the pass and when they do the Under and his giants cause quite the commotion, from where he sits underneath the ridge Benjen can hear their roars and the screams of the men and women who they are killing, their deaths still disturb him somewhat, but he pushes those thoughts away from his mind for now. Eventually the time comes and Benjen signals for both the Van and the Right to move through the pass, and when they do they pass through the lines of bodies both giant and human left in the wake of the distraction, he feels slightly sick but still he goes on and they come across the remainder of the host that makes up the wildling resistance, and the battle begins. Benjen cuts his way through them all, Ice swinging like a light weight from his hands, cutting and hacking, blood pouring down his armour as he makes his way towards Mance Rayder, they clash steel once, twice, thrice, four times and then on the fifth time Benjen cuts the man’s armour, and on it goes, on and on cutting and slashing, cutting and slashing, until eventually Mance Rayder lies at the bottom of the pass his throat slit, the rebellion over. On the seventh day of the tenth month of the 299th year after Aegon’s Landing Benjen Stark, now known as Benjen the Bloody for the bloodshed during the fighting returns home to Winterfell with his wife and nephew Aemon Steelsong and his goodsister Dalla.

* * *

 

**King Rhaegon I Blackfyre**

For years ever since he had learnt who and what he was, Rhaegon Blackfyre had dreamed of the day he would sit the Iron Throne. It was his by right of blood, and the fact that his aunt was such a firm believer in his claim only strengthened his resolve to ensure that at the end of this all he was sat on the Iron Throne, not a Baratheon, a Lannister or a Targaryen but him, a Blackfyre the rightful rulers of the southern kingdom who had been denied their right for years. So far it did appear as if that dream, that belief was about to come true, the Westerlands were largely vacant, of any actual fighting men, most of the strength having been with Jaime Lannister at Riverrun or at Harrenhal with Tywin Lannister. And so Rhaegon and the lords of the Reach and the Golden Company had found the path to take most of the Westerlands relatively easily.

The forces of Lady Oakheart and Lord Terrence Osgrey had done their jobs very well and had created a good enough distraction that the Rock had had to hastily send troops to Red Lake where they were met with a wall of men, the battle of Red Lake was also known as the battle of blood for the slaughter that had occurred. Rhaegon wielding Blackfyre had taken many lives that day including that of one Stafford Lannister who he had later learnt was the uncle of the main line Lannisters on some level. From Red Lake their vast host numbering some 50,000 men had broken up into factions, Terrence Osgrey had led some 10,000 men to go raiding along the coast taking what livestock and gold he could find and transporting it back to the Reach. Homeless Harry Strickland the captain general of the golden company led that traditional Blackfyre Company on a raiding mission of the Lannister gold mines, and the rest followed Rhaegon as he went about capturing castles. Cornfield, Siverhill, Clegane Hall, Deep Den, Sarsfield and Hornvale had all fallen to Rhaegon.

The Lannisters had assembled another host and at Oxcross they had met, the Lannister host had been commanded by Ser Daven Lannister a good man, and it had also contained an obscene amount of Lannisters many of the mainline Lannisters such as Willem and Martyn Lannister who were squiring for lords in the army were present and were killed in the battle. The deaths of one’s so young disturbed Rhaegon but he pushed on, Oxcross was an easy victory but with it there was the quandary, what was one to do, move on for the Rock or risk being taken in the rear by another host?  It was with these thoughts in his head that Rhaegon had decided that they would head north and join up with the Golden Company before going for a full on frontal assault on the Golden Tooth, where it was said the majority of the Lannister wealth came from.

The taking of the Golden Tooth was a bloody business, the Leffords offered a lot of resistance and Rhaegon saw many men he had grown up with killed before his eyes, something that had just made him all the angrier and determined to see justice done, eventually the tooth had surrendered and Rhaegon had had Alysanne Lefford the Lady of the Tooth following her father’s death marry Ser Gormon Peake making him the new Lord of the Golden Tooth. With the tooth now in their possession they had effectively cut of a way for Jaime Lannister to return to the Westerlands, and with Tywin Lannister and his brother Kevan dead there was very little martial experience left in the Westerlands. The extermination of the Lannisters was continuing and continued at the battle of the pass where a host led by Ser Damion Lannister was put down before it could even begin. After that battle Rhaegon had ridden from the Tooth leaving orders for Peake to allow Lannister and some of his men back into the Westerlands when the man came.

Everything else was also going well for Rhaegon, Robb Baratheon had accepted his terms for alliance and as such Rhaegon had sent Wilbert Osgrey along with some 20,000 men to remove the Targaryen scum from the Stormlands. Viserys Targaryen held King’s Landing now, but Robb Baratheon remained alive having fled the city along with his mother and siblings and wife before the man had arrived at the city, and with Wilbert approaching the Stormlands all the hard work Targaryen had put in would be undone soon enough. It was almost too good to be true, perhaps the gods were finally smiling down on his family?

There was just one issue how to take the Rock? They had marched from the Tooth and had been laying siege to the Rock for the past three weeks, Lannisport had been removed of any Lannisters in the vicinity something that Robb Reyne had carried out with some sort of grim satisfaction. And yet the Rock held out, it was beginning to grate on Rhaegon’s nerves, the castle was supposedly held by an old woman Genna Lannister who stubbornly refused to surrender even though the odds were completely against her, her family was being reduced by the day and soon enough the rock would fall, the question was how to get it to fall completely?

Tyrion Lannister the imp, the youngest son of Tywin Lannister had ridden out of the castle not under a flag of parley but under a flag of war, dressed in armour it had been comical to see, but the laughter had stopped when the arrows had stared flying from the walls of the rock and as such another battle had occurred outside the gates of the rock, that had ended with Tyrion Lannister’s head as well as the heads of several other golden haired shits on pikes. A clear sign to Genna Lannister that he was not to be trifled with, and as such it seemed as if the woman was either finally ready to listen or she was attempting to flee, for she had been brought before him dressed in begging clothes, Rhaegon was sat in his tent with Ser Elton Reyne the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard and his son Daemon who was also a member of the Kingsguard stood in front of his chair. Genna Lannister was brought before him and Rhaegon looked at her briefly before asking. “Have you come to surrender Lady Genna?”

The woman laughed then, “Surrender? To you? I think not. Blackfyres might have done well in the past, but you do not have the complete backing of the north nor any other serious houses behind you do you? No soon enough your success will run out just as it always has and perhaps Viserys Targaryen will sit the throne.”

Rhaegon was silent for a moment before he said. “And if I told you that House Tully, House Arryn and House Baratheon as well as their bannermen have all declared for me and that the might of the reach is under my disposal, what then Lady Genna? Would you still believe that I do not have enough strength to take the throne and hold it?”

The woman looks up at him in horror and stutters to reply before eventually saying. “Then I would name you a fool and a liar, Hoster Tully is sworn to Stannis Baratheon, and now his grandson and the Arryns are far too noble to ever abandon their oaths to those they consider the rightful king. You might have their minor houses support but you won’t have the strength to consolidate your hold or claim, and soon enough that will come to bite you in the back Blackfyre.”

“Believe what you wish Lady Genna, but now I have to pay an old debt to a friend and mentor. With you as a bargaining chip the gates to the Rock shall open and your family shall come to an end. In retribution for what you did to the Reynes your family shall end the Lannisters shall be no more.” Rhaegon said his voice firm.

“You would not do that, to do that would be to send a sign to the other great houses that they are a risk to your own reign, and would make them uneasy about your rule. You might be a warrior but you are not stupid Rhaegon Blackfyre. You won’t kill my family if you know what is good for you.” Genna Lannister said pleadingly.

Rhaegon merely looked at the woman and said. “Wait and see my lady. But for now we move towards the Rock.” And so they did they rode from the campsite, the Kingsguard and his men riding next to him, up the hill and to the gates of the Rock where the gates opened and the Lannisters were soon presented before him in chains. He turned to Robb Reyne and said. “My friend the honour is yours, do as you will.” And with that he walked away as the Lannisters were lessened by a significant amount. Genna Lannister was made to watch as her family was brought down around her, nephews, nieces and cousins were all killed one by one as the Reynes of Long Lake took their vengeance, a desert that had been served some thirty years ago by Tywin Lannister was now being served to his family. At the end Rhaegon had the woman put out of her misery at Genna Lannister was slain leaving Jaime Lannister, his sister and their bastards the last Lannisters left.

Soon enough battle would come and when it did, Rhaegon would crush Jaime Lannister and adorn his head on a spike and then Viserys Targaryen would also face the same fate, and the Iron Throne would finally belong where it should have belonged 103 years ago.


	26. Two Sides Of The Coin

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

All of this death and destruction, the burning, the raping, the pillaging all of it had been caused because of what he and Cersei had done. The realisation of that had only hit Jaime when he had heard of his brother Tyrion’s death, his brother had always lived in his shadow and as such had tried to remove himself from that shadow and had gone out on a limb and tried to take on Rhaegon Blackfyre and had paid for it with his life. The thought that his foolishness with Cersei had cost him his family was far too much for him to take, he had always known that what they were to one another was far too risky and dangerous to ever become public knowledge, he had never wanted children, not if he could not have Cersei, and when he had joined the Kingsguard he had thought that he would still get to have her, especially if Elia Martell did not survive through Aerys madness, but then he had gotten to know Elia Martell and the guilt of his earlier thoughts had plagued him. When Robert had wed Cersei, at first he had thought that he had lost his sister but shortly after her wedding she came back to his bed, and he knew not what to make of it all. And so they had created three children and the world was bleeding because of that.

Sometimes he wondered what life would have been like if he had ever been able to think with his head and not his cock when it came to Cersei, whatever she wanted from him he often did simply because it made her happy, there was no other reason than that, and it did pain him now to think on it. All the pain Tyrion had suffered his life had been because Jaime had been too much of a craven to stop it, to stop their father and Cersei from causing him pain, and now Tyrion was dead. He had not even been able to see how his sister had actually lusted not for him, but for the power being Queen and mother to the future king gave her. He had simply thought that she had missed him as badly as he had missed her and that they were going to life the live they were always meant to live with one another, but of course once Joffrey was born there was little he could do, little that could be done, the urges were still there but there was no other way to remove them and it wore on him, and now here they were, Joffrey, Tyrion, the mighty Tywin Lannister and most of the Lannister family were dead and Cersei, Tommem and Myrcella were all in chains in King’s Landing.

The war itself had started of reasonably well, Stannis Baratheon had declared himself king using the accusations that were true, but Jaime had been visiting his family in the Rock when the accusations came, his father had simply looked at him and then said “We shall teach the man a sharp lesson about slandering our family.” And so the riverlands had burned under the wrath of Tywin Lannister, at the Golden Tooth Jaime had slaughtered more men than he had done during the Pirate War, at the battle for Riverrun he had killed far too many men for him to be able to sleep comfortably at night. Edmure Tully had been taken captive and each day, his life expectancy grew shorter as Hoster Tully rumoured to be ailing remained defiant. And then news came from Harrenhal, King’s Landing had fallen to Stannis Baratheon and their family was in shambles. Jaime had wanted to ride for King’s Landing at once, but his father had written to him telling him to take Riverrun before they rode to King’s Landing.

And so Jaime had continued to siege Riverrun hoping against hope that the Tullys would capitulate, or that Hoster Tully loved his son more than Jaime’s own father seemed to care about his children, but alas the man held out and Edmure Tully remained defiant as well saying that his father would never surrender. And then Gregor Clegane appeared with some 2000 men, speaking of the battle beneath the God’s Eye where the men of the Vale had slaughtered Jaime’s father, uncle and their host. His father and uncle were dead, and now he was the sole main Lannister left in the field, the thought was unnerving; he sent word to Casterly Rock asking for a new host to be raised and worried about what needed to be done now.  It seemed the gods answered that question for him, Rhaegon Blackfyre began raiding the Westerlands shortly after Jaime’s father was slain in battle, and as such he smashed through three different hosts before finally taking the Rock and in true rains of Castamere fashion having the Lannisters of both Casterly Rock and Lannisport put to the sword, men, women, children all were slain and none were left to live.

Jaime felt like his whole world had been torn to sunder when he heard what had happened at the Rock, his whole family was gone now, he was the last male Lannister left alive and now it was his duty to do something. He ended the siege of Riverrun leaving Edmure Tully in chains in the Whispering Wood before marching off for the Westerlands, at the Golden Tooth they met some resistance from the newly anointed Lord Gormon Peake who was wed to Alysanne Lefford. The battle was sharp and snappy, and at the end of Jaime had killed Peake and whatever garrison the man had had at the Tooth, from there he had marched his host through the Westerlands till they reached Oxcross where he had drawn up camp and had decided that it was necessary for them to discuss what their next set of tactics should be. Without there being any male Lannisters left apart from Jaime himself, the Rock would pass to Cersei and then perhaps Tommem, but Jaime knew that for them to have any chance at all they needed the Rock back. And so he had called a war council, apart from himself, there was Ser Gregor Clegane, Ser Armory Lorch, Ser Harys Swyft and Ser Hardwyn Plumm. “What word is there from the scouts Ser Armory?” Jaime asked.

Ser Armory Lorch was not a bright man by any means but he was good at what he did. “Well my lord, there has been some movement from the Rock, it seems as if the pretender knows or expects us to use the sealed route to get into the castle and as such has begun preparing for that. My scouts report that a host was sent out under the command of his aunt Visenya Blackfyre some three days ago, soon enough they will be meeting us and they seem to have orders to completely destroy us.”

“How great are their numbers?” Gregor Clegane the butcher of the riverlands asked.

Lorch scrunched his face up for a moment before saying. “Some 20,000 men and women ser. That is what my scouts told me and that is what I have seen for myself as well. Visenya Blackfyre will want our throats soon enough.”

“Let her come and try, what battles has she ever won that we must needs fear her?” Ser Hardwyn Plumm asked. “Her nephew has won all the battles that he has fought so far, and before that it was her husband and his bannermen who won their battles during the wars beyond the wall. She might be a good fighter, but being a good fighter and a good commander are not the same. Let us see what errors she makes, and when she makes one error she will pay for it with her life.”

“You seem confident that Visenya Blackfyre will make errors that will be costly to her nephew’s cause. Need I remind you that the woman has spent nigh on twenty years planning for the day when her nephew could sit the throne, I highly doubt that she will make any grievous mistakes that will cost her nephew that opportunity.” Jaime reminded them all.

“Still she is a woman, give her a reason to fear for her safety or of those she cares for and she will wilt and her true colours will be exposed. All women are the same when it comes to fighting, they might claim they relish it but inside they will feel the fear and pain all that much more. Especially if those they love and care about are in danger that is evident.” Ser Hardwyn replied.

“What are you suggesting Ser? That we kidnap her nephew or great nephew both of whom have proven more of themselves in this one war than you have in two?” Ser Harys Swyft asked his tone mocking. The usually meek man had found backbone from somewhere.

“No what I am suggesting is we take her squire, Shiera Snow, and we make it so that Blackfyre feels hindered in acting, that will cost her men and lives and time.” Hardwyn replied.

“How would we do that pray tell?” Jaime asked.

“Simple we split them up, fly a Targaryen Banner and Snow will come charging at the one holding the banner, her hatred of the Targaryens is not exactly well hidden now is it?” Hardwyn replied.

Jaime simply nodded and then the plans were made, Ser Gregor Clegane was given command of the vanguard, and was tasked with leading Shiera Snow away from her master, Ser Hardwyn Plumm commanded the left and was tasked with throwing all of his might at the main body of the Blackfyre host. Jaime commanded the right and knew that he would need to kill Visenya Blackfyre himself to cause a significant enough blow to the Blackfyre cause in order to give them a chance of reclaiming Casterly Rock. On the fourth day of the twelfth month of the 299th year after Aegon’s Landing the Final Roar as the battle would come to be known began. The battle was waged on the plains of Oxcross and was fought in close quarters, Jaime swung his sword left, right, and centre, cutting down men and women, swinging and swinging until his arms ached, but on he went swinging his sword like a man possessed his one chance at getting revenge for all the family he had lost, on and on it went swinging left, right and centre, his arms were tired, Brightroar was covered in blood the ground was littered with bodies, but the fighting wore on.

He swung left, right, and centre, and at one point the right of the Blackfyre host was broken when Jaime slew twenty men all of whom seemed to be skilled warriors perhaps from the golden company. The fighting continued, the screams were echoing in his helm, but he pushed on swinging his sword, left and right, and centre, through the haze of battle he charged. Fighting, swinging, hacking, cutting, ducking and dodging, doing all he could to make sure that as many men and women who were fighting for Blackfyre died, his sword was stained with blood, his armour was caked in mud, sweat and blood both his own and that of those he had slain. Bodies littered the ground, but still the fighting wore on, on and on it went, raise sword kill man, repeat, on and on it went, hacking and slashing, cutting through the throngs of people looking for Visenya Blackfyre, he could not find her but on he went, swinging his sword, hacking and slashing, cutting through the throngs.

Eventually he found her, Visenya Blackfyre, dressed in black armour swung her sword like someone possessed, they met in a clash of steel, the clang echoed through the valley, and on they went, swinging at each other, cutting one another, pushing through the throngs of people hacking at one another, Blackfyre seemingly had more power or will of mind then Jaime did, for soon enough Jaime found his sword knocked from his hand and then he was off his horse and her sword was at his throat and then there was darkness. Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, the Lion of the West was killed by Visenya Blackfyre on the seventh day of twelfth month of the 299th year after Aegon’s Landing, he was thirty three, with his death the last male Lannister died.

* * *

 

**Lord Jon Stark**

He was a Stark, he bore the name of kings and conquerors, and yet he had grown up in the south, away from the cold north, he had never actually been to the north, to where his father and his father before him had grown up. He had grown up listening to tales of the Vale and what his father had gotten up to there with King Robert Baratheon, the stories that his father Lord Eddard Stark would tell of the north and growing up in Moat Cailin were often tinged with sadness for the loss of his brother and father and mother, and as such he did not often speak of them, though Jon had met his cousin Branda once before when she had come south with a few southern inclined northerners, and as such he had thought her to be a lovely girl, and he would have deeply liked to get to know her better yet she had only stopped off in Crow’s Corner for a few days before heading to Dorne.

As for his own family, Jon was the oldest son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne, and with his father’s death the Lord of Crow’s Corner the castle that sat on former Connington Lands, gifted to them by King Robert Baratheon following the cousin’s war. His father and mother had had three other children, Jon’s two brothers Brandon and Arthur and his sister Arya, Brandon and Arthur were neigh inseparable, doing everything together, fighting, climbing all sorts of things that they did were done together, both of them had their mother’s dark black hair and violet eyes, whilst Jon and Arya had their father’s brown hair and long face. Arya, was a little spitfire a fierce fighter and stubborn she did what she wanted when she wanted, and Jon loved her for that. His mother and father had been caring and loving to their children, encouraging them to do what they wanted within reason, and to go and try other new things as well, and when Jon had seen how some of the other children from noble houses in the Stormlands were restrained by their southern practices he felt grateful for growing up the way he had.

The freedom that Jon and his siblings had experienced growing up was one that his cousin Edric and his aunt Allyria had also experienced growing up in Blackhaven as well. Edric was currently a squire for Edmure Tully though he had spent a great part of his time in captivity alongside his master during the war and had only just recently been freed. His cousin was a wild boy, almost as wild as Arya was, and the two of them got on like a house on fire. His aunt Allyria, who was betrothed to Edmure Tully was a sweet and demure lady who was also fiercely smart and protective of those she cared deeply about, and as such there had been times when they were all growing up where Jon had thought that his aunt was more like his mother than his own mother had been sometimes, with just how strict and stern she could be. Jon’s uncle Ullrick was a stern man, who could be nice and kind when he wanted to be but often was very serious and stern, something that Jon’s mother said came from having to bear the weight of their house on his shoulders for so many years.

The war that had erupted following his father’s death had been waging close to two years now, and as such it had caused a great sort of chasm to erupt in the Stormlands, Jon had wanted to march to war to fight for Stannis Baratheon when the man had called his banners, he had wanted to get revenge and justice for his father and for Princess Elia and her children as well, and yet his mother and uncle had both told him to wait and to patient to see how things went. When Stannis Baratheon had taken King’s Landing things had seemed to settle down, but then Viserys Targaryen had invaded and he had gone about conquering castles in the Stormlands, when he had taken Storm’s End the man had sent out ravens demanding all the lords of the Stormlands come and do him fealty. Jon had refused and had been threatened with having his castle and lands taken from him, and yet somehow such a thing had not happened, though he suspected his uncle Arthur, the Sword of the Morning a man he had never met but had heard a lot about had had something to do with that. Arthur Dayne was not a name mentioned unless in warning by either his mother or his uncle, and as such Jon could understand why, the man had aided mad Prince Rhaegar in the kidnapping and raping of Jon’s aunt on his father’s side Lyanna Stark now Queen Dowager of the North and Iron Islands, and as such Ser Arthur had lost the respect of his family.

Viserys Targaryen now held King’s Landing, but Robb Baratheon, Jon’s new overlord now held Storm’s End once more having escaped from King’s Landing just before the man had taken the city. But there was still a strong Targaryen presence in the Stormlands, with the houses of the Rainwood and the Marches led by Houses Connington and Martell remaining loyal to House Targaryen despite the obvious worsening of their livelihoods and influence. Rhaegon Blackfyre had landed in the Reach and had taken the Westerlands from there, and with Jaime Lannister dead the man would soon be marching on King’s Landing, and as such Jon knew then that he would need support in taking the capital, and for that to be done the Targaryen influence in the Stormlands needed to be removed, how that was to be done though, Jon was not sure. That was why both his mother, his uncle, Lord Andros Fell and Lord Anthony Boiling were present here in Crow’s Corner. “Now then my lords, we have news from the Westerlands, of course Jaime Lannister is dead his army broken, the Westerlords or rather those that remain have declared for Rhaegon Blackfyre. And due to his part in freeing Riverrun from siege, House Tully and their bannermen have declared for him as well, as have the Vale and House Baratheon. The question though remains how do we clear the path for Rhaegon Blackfyre to take what is his, when we are prevented from marching by the Martells and the Conningtons?”

His uncle speaks then. “We have had word from Storm’s End, it appears that young lord Robb is marshalling what men he can to take the sword to Griffin’s Roost and route out what Targaryen loyalists remain there. Lord Baratheon also wrote of how King Rhaegon sent one of the Osgreys to aid us in cleaning the Stormlands of the Targaryen presence, if I remember correctly, Ser Oswell When was sent to go and get Lady Arianne from Summerhall along with some extra 500 swords to defend King’s Landing, if we were to march north to Summerhall we could easily take the castle and have done with it.”

Lord Boiling speaks then. “Would that be wise though my lords? Doran Martell is not a strong man, but Ser Oswell was among the most deadliest knights of Aerys Targaryen’s Kingsguard, and as such it is possible that he could still put up a great deal of resistance or call for aid from those riverlords who are marching south as well. We must play it carefully before we make any sudden moves.”

“We have been playing carefully for far too long,” old Lord Andros Fell says. “We must make a move and we must make a move now. Doran Martell is so caught up in his desire for vengeance that he would sell his only daughter of to the Targaryen scum. He does not realise what the return of the Targaryens would mean for the Stormlands. Rather than Robb Baratheon was still king, but alas better a Black Dragon than a red one. Rhaegon Blackfyre has done what no man has done before and taken the Rock, we must do what we can to aid him. If Wilbert Osgrey is marching for the Stormlands he will have to fight the riverlords led by Lord Raymun Darry before he can get here, or there will be battle in the southern riverlands. That will give us time to remove the Martell power from reaching King’s Landing.”

“Aye that would  be the way to do it,” his uncle Lord Ullrick said. “We must march and we must march soon otherwise we shall be facing more threats from the marcher lords such as House Caron and Cafferen, both of whom are able to muster considerable forces compared to what we can muster combined.”

Jon nods and then says. “Very well, Lord Fell, Lord Boiling I want you to prepare your men we shall march for Summerhall in three days time and this time the Martells will realise what folly it is to support the Targaryens.” With that the meeting is dismissed though his uncle and mother remain behind.

His mother speaks then. “I did not want to say anything in front of Fell and Boiling, but must you be the one to lead the host Jon? Why not leave the fighting to your uncle who has fought in many battles beforehand?”

Jon sighs and says. “I have to do this mother, father would not have sat idly by whilst his home was under threat, he did not sit idly by when aunt Lyanna was taken. Robb Baratheon has fought in battles and come out successful, what sort of lord would I be if I did not fight for my home and for my people? I must do this and the Martells must be shown the error of their ways. The Targaryens are a poison that must be removed for good from Westeros, otherwise we shall all burn under their madness.”

His mother goes to speak but his uncle Ullrick speaks then his voice stern. “Jon is right Ashara. If he is to be as good a lord as Ned was, he must lead from the front, his men must see him at the front of the lines fighting bleeding beside them. The Martells have spent too long plotting for revenge they have forgotten what it is to be loved and to love, they have risen to high and they must now be brought down low.”

His mother sighs then and says. “Very well but I am still not happy about it. Be safe sweetling, I cannot afford to lose anyone else.”

Jon nods and says. “I will mother on that you can be assured of.” Three days later 1,000 men march from Crow’s Corner for Summerhall, the march is somewhat short and when they arrive at the old summer palace of the Targaryens they find the 500 men that were supposed to march with Ser Oswell Whent stood outside the gates of the castle, some blond haired man stood at the front of the men. “Surrender and we shall let you go in peace! We want no more bloodshed.” Jon shouts at the man.

The man he sees has a white cloak billowing from his shoulders, and when the man shouts back his voice is deep and sarcastic sounding. “I will not surrender, neither shall House Martell. We shall end this with battle green boy and when your body lies there rotting I shall be sure to give it to your traitor of a mother.”

The battle was fierce, Jon taking command of the left saw the battle raging on around him, but with his uncle Ullrick and Ser Gerold Dayne another cousin fighting beside him he was largely unhindered by the carnage that others were facing, he managed to cut down one, two, three, four men before he took a wound to the shoulder that forced him to march to the end of the line. But the battle continued on and on and eventually the battle for Summerhall ended and Doran Martell surrendered the castle and gave over his castle for use for the Blackfyres to use as a base of operations. Amongst the dead was Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard, slain by Lord Andros Fell. 


	27. Kathleen

**Lord Elbert Arryn**

For nearly two years Westeros had been stuck in war, ever since Robert and Ned had died or had been murdered, the kingdoms had been tearing at each other’s throats. The Lannisters had of course been pushing for complete dominance of Robert’s court for some time, and Robert in his desire to please his wife had allowed that to happen, it was something that Elbert’s uncle Jon had often lamented on the few times he had come back to the Eyrie, his uncle had seemed more and more worn down by being hand of the king, frustration with Robert’s spending and whoring, the strong man that Jon Arryn had been in his youth had disappeared and in his place had come a tired old man who simply wished to return to the Vale. Only his uncle’s loyalty to Robert had stopped him from leaving King’s Landing, and leaving Robert to the vipers that were the Lannisters, and in the end that loyalty had cost him his life. There was no doubt in Elbert’s mind that the Lannister woman had had Jon poisoned so as to make sure Robert did not learn of her terrible secret. Why Cersei Lannister had refused to bear any of Robert’s actual children had completely stumped him, and even when he had questioned her, she had given no response except to say that she only felt complete when the Kingslayer was with her, inside of her.

Well the Lannisters had paid for their treason with their lives, news had come from the Westerlands, Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer and Tywin Lannister’s golden son and the last male Lannister left alive had perished at the Battle beneath the Ridge slain by Visenya Stark, with his death House Lannister and the Rock belonged to Cersei Lannister, and yet word had reached Storm’s End that Cersei Lannister and her son Tommem Waters had been executed on order of King Viserys Targaryen. It appeared that Viserys Targaryen meant to use Myrcella Waters claim to get the Rock, for the man had legitimised the girl, and given her, her mother’s name. Word on the vine was that the man meant to claim the Rock through marrying her, as his own betrothal to Arianne Martell had ended when Lord Doran Martell had surrendered Summerhall to Lord Jon Stark, Ned’s boy. Arianne Martell had then been quickly wed to Lord Jon and Summerhall and their bannermen had declared for Rhaegon Blackfyre.

Elbert himself had played a part in clearing out the Stormlands of Targaryen supporters, fighting alongside young Lord Robb Baratheon in the battle of the Roost as they had fought and slain pretty much all of House Connington and their forces, leaving behind only Lady Alynne Connington the woman who Renly Baratheon had been supposed to wed. Robb Baratheon had shown himself to be his father’s son during the battle in that he showed a ruthlessness in getting the job done, but that he would honour those who had performed valiant feats from the enemy side, they were given a quickly, death, those that bent the knee to Rhaegon Blackfyre were welcomed back into the fold. In that sense Robb was like his uncle Robert, in that he could very easily turn enemies into friends, a gift that his father had not had, and yet with his father’s sense of duty, honour and justice and his uncle’s ability to make fast friends he could have been a very good king. Alas circumstances had dictated otherwise, thankfully the Tyrells had held true to their alliance, well of course they would Mace Tyrell might be an ambitious man but he was no idiot, one day his grandson would rule a very powerful kingdom.

As to fighting for the Blackfyres, well Elbert found that most ironic. After all it had often been House Arryn that had come to the rescue for the Targaryens over the years during the countless Blackfyre wars that had been fought, often turning the tide in favour of the red dragon. When he had been a child growing up, Elbert had often taken pride in the fact that his house had played such a crucial role in securing the Targaryen dynasty, but after the cousin’s war he had often thought that perhaps it would have made more sense if they had simply supported the Black Dragon, the Red one showing more madness than brilliance. It was this viewpoint that had sort of encouraged him to be vocal about supporting Rhaegon Blackfyre, after Viserys Targaryen had landed and had caused trouble for Robb. He knew that it left an awkward taste in all of their mouths but the man had done them all a great service by having all the Lannisters in the Westerlands killed, for it had driven Jaime Lannister away from Riverrun and freed the riverlands.

As often happened these days Elbert found his thoughts turning toward his wife and children back in the Eyrie, safe and sound. His eldest son Robert auburn of hair and blue of eye had come with him when he had ridden to war, and had proven himself a capable soldier and commander, Elbert was proud of his son, more than he would ever be able to say in words, he would make a very good lord when his day came. As for his other children, Jasper was serving as a squire for Lord Yohn Royce and would most like earn his spurs sometime soon, the boy simply seemed to breathe sword fighting, a more graceful swordsman Elbert had never seen. His daughter Sharra was the perfect lady, just like her mother was and Elbert knew that in the future she would break many hearts. His youngest son Artys was a fierce little lad, who would be a handful in the future, much like Elbert had been at his age. It was for them that Elbert continued to plough on through the pain and the injuries and the sickness and the grief. He had lost many of his childhood friends during this war, and the things he had seen he never wished to see again, of course with the Targaryen houses in the Riverlands causing problems they had marched north to give them battle, and as such were currently camped at Tumbler’s Falls, Elbert had main command of their 5,000 strong host and as such had asked for a war council to be called today.

The lords in attendance included, young Lord Robb Baratheon, Lord Ullrick Dayne, Lord Jon Stark who reminded Elbert so much of Ned it hurt, Lord Andros Fell, Lord Anthony Boiling and Lord Edmure Tully. Elbert spoke first. “We all know what is happening out there, the Targaryens hold King’s Landing and they are setting the Riverlands alight, we must deal with them and we must deal with them quickly if we want King Rhaegon Blackfyre to take the city. Now what news do we have?”

Lord Ullrick speaks first. “Our scouts report that Lords Darry, Mooton, Smallwood and their sworn houses are all mustering their strength and are using Harrenhal as a base. They mean to march for Riverrun and lay siege to it once more.”

Elbert’s goodbrother Lord Edmure did not seem amused. “Those houses are so ungrateful. After they rebelled against my father during the cousin’s war we pardoned them and gave them a leg to stand on, and now they continue to fight for that mad man who calls himself the rightful king. They set fire to my lands and drive my people indoors what sort of people are they that they think they will get away with this?”

“The kind who have the backing of King’s Landing,” Lord Ullrick says. “The lords of the crownlands are largely without their men, they either died during the first or second battles of King’s Landing and as such it appears that Viserys Targaryen has been advised to no call upon them. Hence he has thrown his full weight behind the riverlords who are now fighting for him. My scouts report that their number comes to some 4,000 men but there will be some 200 extra men coming from King’s Landing bolstered by two of the Kingsguard.”

“Do we know who these two Kingsguard are? If they are men of less repute say Arys Oakheart or Godry Farring we could possibly convince them to turn cloak on the riverlords who are rebelling and have them dealt with that way.” Lord Fell says.

Lord Ullrick looks pained at that and says. “My scouts say that Ser Godry Farring and Ser Arthur Dayne are the ones leading the forces from King’s Landing. It would appear that Viserys Targaryen means to keep the others around him, unlike what his father did during the cousin’s war.”

At that there is a lot of murmuring, before Elbert says. “It makes no matter which of Viserys Targaryen’s Kingsguard are leading the men from King’s Landing. We must make it so that they cannot have an effect on the overall tide of the battle. We must make it so that they are crushed before they can pick up any sort of advantage, we must lead the riverlords who are fighting for Targaryen on a chase. That is why I want you Lord Tully to lead them on a merry chase from here, go to Harrenhal, or to the god’s eye and begin creating trouble, the crownlanders will chase you.”

His goodbrother seems surprised by what he has said, “Me? Why me Lord Elbert? What good would me leading men on a goose chase do anybody?”

“It would give us time to prepare for when the Riverlords who are fighting for Targaryen finally mobilise and move from Harrenhal. Do this and we shall get them right where we want them, between the hammer and the anvil. For The Blackfyre host under Wilbert Osgrey shall soon be coming this way and we need time before we can finally end this threat and pave the way for King’s Landing.” Elbert replies.

There are some murmurs of agreement and eventually two days later Lord Edmure rides out with some 300 men from where they are camped toward Harrenhal, three days after that Elbert and the rest of the army march out from Tumbler’s fall and meet the rebel riverlord host at the seven stream where it is said Prince Daemon Targaryen used to live in the days of old. The two hosts meet in frenzied battle and soon enough Elbert loses himself in the throngs of battle, swinging his sword left, right and centre, bringing men down left and right. His sword is covered in blood, his armour covered in dirt and blood, some of it his own, some of it that of others. The fighting continues swinging, hacking, cutting, ducking, and dodging, the fighting wages on and on. All around him men are fighting and dying, screaming from pain and grief but time does not stop.

At least it doesn’t until Elbert sees a white cloak and a man with a gleaming sword, Ser Arthur Dayne one of the deadliest knights to have ever lived rides towards him and soon enough they engage in a clash of steel on steel. Elbert soon learns why the man was seen as the deadliest of Aerys seven, the man’s speed and reactions are beyond comprehension it takes Elbert seven blows to his own armour with blood coming out of fresh wounds before he can finally strike Arthur Dayne on the helm, and then the beating continues, swinging, and cutting, ducking and blocking. Their fight pushes them into the water, into the stream and they go on and on, Arthur pummelling Elbert and Elbert struggling to keep up. A swing and a miss, a swing and a cut, a swing and a miss, on it goes, Elbert is tired now, so very tired and yet still he keeps fighting, swinging his sword left and right, left and right on and on. Arthur Dayne knocks Elbert’s sword from his hands and then Elbert feels steel pierce through his chest, and the world goes black. Elbert Arryn, Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East dies on the 15th day of the twelfth month of the 299th year after Aegon’s Landing, at the battle of the Streams, he was thirty nine.

* * *

 

**King Viserys III Targaryen**

After sixteen years of waiting he was finally where he truly belonged, sat on the Iron Throne as King of the South. Viserys Targaryen, third of his name King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, lord of the Five Kingdoms and protector of the realm, that was something he would never get tired of hearing, it was the thing that he had aspired to after the war had ended, it was something that had kept him going through all the hard times. Here he was sat on the Iron Throne where his father and his ancestors had all sat before him, the Targaryen dynasty rightfully restored and their power slowly increasing. It felt nice to be back in Westeros, what little he could remember of it before his exile had been only good memories, though he knew that his father had been mad and his brother perhaps just as mad, that was something that he regretted, that his family was remembered by those two idiots actions, his whole life he had tried to make sure he never repeated what mistakes they had made and so far he thought he was doing a good job.

The campaign had begun in the Stormlands, a place that Viserys had thought appropriate considering that it was where the usurper and his family came from. The Baratheons had risen too high too quickly and had fallen apart, taking Storm’s End had felt like a good come back for Viserys, that he had planned and executed the taking of the castle had felt even better. With half of the Stormlands under his control they had marched for King[‘s Landing and at the Kingswood Viserys had taken the life of the usurper’s brother Stannis Baratheon, a distant cousin but still the feeling had been good. Pay back for the hurt and pain Viserys had known when they had had to flee from Dragonstone all those years ago, because the man he had slain had been acting on the usurper’s orders. But Viserys himself had been injured during the battle and as such had retreated back to camp for a brief period of time, before planning the actual taking of King’s Landing.

Of course taking King’s Landing had not gone completely as planned, Viserys had planned on having the male Baratheons under Robb Baratheon killed and having Sansa Baratheon wed Jon Connington and giving his hand Storm’s End and yet somehow the boy had managed to escape King’s Landing alongside his family before Viserys had arrived in the capital. His arrival in King’s Landing had been delayed by the fighting with men from the Vale, whom he later learned had served as a distraction whilst Robb Baratheon sailed away on the Redwyne Fleet. It made no matter though the Baratheons had lost the throne and Viserys had been crowned king shortly after arriving in King’s Landing, wearing the crown of Aegon V, and from there he had begun making his council appointments. He had named Jon Connington hand of the king in reward for the many years of service the man had given him, he had reinstated Petyr Baelish as master of coin and the man had proven to be a wizard with gold, his master of laws was of course Ser Errold Massey a man who had long been in his service, master of whispers was of course his cousin Varys, the former grand maesters Pycelle and Gormon Viserys had executed and a man named Marwyn was sent as the new grand maester, a controversial character according to some in his camp but a wise and smart man nonetheless.

As for the Kingsguard, well the usurper’s brother had inherited a significantly depleted Kingsguard, but with Ser Gerold serving as Lord Commander, Viserys had confirmed Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan as members of his Kingsguard, he had also added Ser Arys Oakheart, Ser Godry Farring and Ser Laenor Celtigar to the Kingsguard. All of them were good men, honourable and true, the paragons of what the Kingsguard should be and not what it had fallen into under the usurper. Of course though following the battle of the streams which had ended in victory for Viserys forces, Ser Godry Farring was dead, Ser Arthur injured at Harrenhal. Ser Oswell had been slain outside Summerhall by Jon Stark, a man whom Viserys had wanted to kill himself, but had not done so because of Ser Arthur’s pleading. Two members of his seven were dead and yet there was not time enough to name their replacements what with the war still raging on fiercely outside the walls of King’s Landing and so Viserys made do with the five with one being at Harrenhal.

If there was anything his exile had taught him it was not to take anything for granted, each day above ground was a blessing and should be treated as such. That did not mean that Viserys could indulge his every whim, though with his betrothal to Arianne Martell now broken and with Ser Oberyn dead during the taking of King’s Landing he did have slightly more freedom to partake in the many delights that King’s Landing had to offer, spurred on by Lord Baelish. Viserys was not a virgin, being a prince of the blood and living in Volantis had taught him the finer arts of pleasuring a woman and so he often found many ladies lining up to be in his bed, and he enjoyed each and every one of them. Another thing his exile had taught him was to value family, his sister Daenaerys was wed to their cousin Prince Vaegor Targaryen the heir to the black throne, and as such Viserys missed her but he was happy for her, she had found happiness in her marriage and would soon be having another child. There was just one other member of his main family left though, his niece Shiera who lived in the north the product of Rhaegar’s madness with the Stark girl, Viserys had always wanted to meet her to see if they could come to some sort of understanding, though from what he had heard from Varys his niece simply wanted to kill all of house Targaryen, something that really worried him considering their relation and he often wondered if she had inherited her father’s madness. The thought of it often made him sad, his brother truly had been a fool, what had he been thinking running away with a princess, the stories he had heard growing up about Rhaegar had always told him of his brother’s bravery and chivalry, and Viserys had always wanted to be like his brother when he grew up, it was only when he grew up that he learnt the full truth of his brother.

As the door to the council chamber opened, Viserys shook his head, such thoughts would not win this war for him. In walked the hand of the king Jon Connington, master of laws Ser Errold Massey, master of coin Petyr Baelish, master of whispers Varys and Grand Maester Marwyn. Once they were all seated Viserys spoke. “I thank you all for coming my lords, now we know of the result of the battle of the Streams, we won and forced Robb Baratheon to take what remained of his forces back to Riverrun, but what I wish to know is what has been happening on the naval front, has there been word from Lord Monford?”

“There has not been Your Grace. Though last we heard from him he was planning on engaging the Redwyne Fleet at Storm’s End and trying to retake Storm’s End whilst the Baratheon forces are away.” Lord Connington said.

Viserys nods and then asks. “Now what news from Harrenhal? How many men do we have left there and how is Ser Arthur getting along?”

“We have some 300 men left at Harrenhal Your Grace, under the command of Lord Lyman Goodbrook. He writes that Ser Arthur is getting better and according to the maester there should be ready to fight once more in about two weeks time. Of course with the remenants of the Baratheon, Arryn forces being camped at Riverrun perhaps it might be best to send some aid to Harrenhal in case they try and attack the castle before we can act.” Lord Connington says.

“Aye that would be best, but where will the men come from? The riverlords under Darry were slaughtered at the Streams; the Crownlords are running low on strength and supply what with winter fast approaching. Unless we call the banners and march straight away we shall be running the risk of being taken unawares, for I know Rhaegon Blackfyre will want to take King’s Landing as soon as he can now that our defences and our forces are greatly depleted. Speaking of which what has the black dragon been doing?” Viserys asks.

“He remains in the Westerlands, drawing more and more of Tywin Lannister’s former bannermen to his cause, he has named Robb Reyne the Lord of Casterly Rock and intends to have the man wed Myrcella Lannister once the time comes. I would strongly suggest that you marry Myrcella Lannister soon before things go wrong for you Your Grace. The sooner you get an heir on her, the better, for it will make her a far less attractive option to Rhaegon Blackfyre should something go wrong in battle.” Varys says.

“She is still a child though, not even flowered.” Viserys protests. “A betrothal to her as already won us some support amongst those who were angered with the Baratheons and the Arryns in the Vale, and their strength is sailing from Gulltown as we speak. If we keep her under guard she cannot escape, not that she would want to anyway. Besides I would rather not have to force myself on her before she is ready for marriage, I remember only to well what it can do to a person to be forced to do something before they are ready.”

“An honourable notion Your Grace,” Lord Connington says. “But not one you can afford to maintain. You must secure your dynasty and you must do it soon, before Rhaegon Blackfyre comes knocking on the doors of King’s Landing. Marry the Lannister girl and get her with child and the struggle can continue. Rhaegon Blackfyre will not have the girl and his plans will be foiled you must marry her soon Your Grace, very, very soon.”

Viserys sighs and says. “Very well, send word to the High Septon to prepare for the wedding, and send for Ser Arthur I want all of the Kingsguard I have left here before I name two more white cloaks.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	28. The Way I Tend To Be

**Ser Arthur Dayne**

It was strange being back in King’s Landing that much Arthur knew, the last time he had been in King’s Landing before this invasion had been before he had ridden of with Rhaegar to help in kidnapping Lyanna Stark. That was an action he always regretted, it was dishonourable what he had done there, he should have shoved a sword through Rhaegar’s throat than let him get away with kidnapping a Princess of the North. But he had been too wrapped up in his honour and the hurt he had felt at Elia’s refusal, and from there they had taken Lyanna and gone to Blackhaven of all places, Arthur could still remember the hateful looks his brother and sister had sent his way for the duration of Rhaegar’s stay there, they had argued so many times about what he was doing there and why he hadn’t tried to help the girl escape. Arthur had been too torn, Rhaegar was his friend and he had refused to see the madness that was enclosing in on his friend, until it was too late and all he could hear when he went to sleep at night was the screams of Lyanna Stark as Rhaegar raped her. He tried to go away, to a place where he could not see nor feel the pain and disgust that was so engulfing but it did not work, and before Rhaegar had left for the trident, Arthur had begged Rhaegar to let him come with him, if his people were going to die for this gods damned man at least let him die as well, the mad man had refused and so Arthur had been there when King’s Landing was sacked, at Blackhaven not in King’s Landing, he should have died that day.

After the anger and grief of the cousin’s war, exile in Volantis had seemed to be the only thing that he was deserving of, a good punishment for what sins he had committed, that was something both he and Oswell agreed on. Arthur buried his grief over Elia’s death and Rhaegar’s betrayal by fighting in the various wars that took place in Essos and ensuring that Viserys Targaryen, Rhaegar’s little brother grew up to be a far better man than either his father or brother, and that he would become the best king Westeros had seen since Daeron the good. Viserys Targaryen was a good lad, he was smart and charming if a bit of a rogue, the Kingsguard kept their king’s secrets and Arthur knew more than he cared to know about his king’s extracurricular activities especially in the pleasure houses in Volantis, and Lys. Still it made no matter Arthur had made sure that the king had no bastards lurking around in Volantis, ensuring that the women were paid to ensure they took moon tea and they spoke not a word about what activities they had gotten up to with the King.

The war itself had been a very conflicting time for Arthur, on the one hand he desperately wanted the king to succeed and he wanted to play a key part in that so as to make up for his failure to the Targaryens during Rhaegar’s madness, on the other hand he was scared and worried what would happen to his brother and sister and their families when Viserys came to the throne. For though he had not spoken to his siblings since the day he had left Blackhaven all those years ago he had always cared for them and made sure to keep tabs on them through the years. As such though he need not have worried overtly about them, the Marcher lords immediately declared for Viserys once he arrived and conquered the Rainwood, though Ullrick remained neutral, Viserys had wanted to punish him but had not done so as a favour for Arthur. As for the fighting, it had felt good to swing a sword once more in proper combat, to show why he was still a deadly knight and not just a simple bodyguard.

Taking King’s Landing had been a strange feeling, the Crownlords, those who had been so loyal to the Targaryens for many years had put up a fierce resistance, along with those from the Vale, fighting to allow Robb Baratheon to escape. Arthur had killed many men during that battle and afterwards had been there when the king had fumed that Robb Baratheon had escaped and yet the mad rage that Aerys would have thrown as would have Rhaegar had not come instead Viserys had simply sighed after that and begun setting things in order for the establishment of his rule. Arthur had watched with pride as his king had set about creating his court and making plans for finishing of the war and establishing complete control. And then Summerhall had fallen and things had gotten pear shaped, Lord Doran had bent the knee to Rhaegon Blackfyre and fighting had been necessary in the Riverlands.

Arthur had marched alongside his fellow Kingsguard Ser Godry Farring an obnoxious man but a good swordsman, and the 500 men from the crownlands that had been summoned by the king and they had met up with the riverlords led by Lord Raymun Darry at Harrenhal. From there had been fighting at the Streams, a blood battle that had seen Arthur kill many more men, more shadows and ghosts to add to his nightmares, and on it had gone. Swinging his sword the only thing he had been good at, and was still good at. He had killed Elbert Arryn the Lord of the Vale and had badly wounded the man’s son Robert, though he had not killed the boy, the Vale would need a strong lord in the times to come. Arthur himself had been badly wounded following the battle, he was not as young as he once had been and it took longer for wounds to heal nowadays. As such he had been in Harrenhal when he learnt of the fall of the Rock and the death of Jaime Lannister, the death troubled him, the rumours he heard about Jaime and his relationship with Cersei Lannister troubled him, Jaime to him remained that young lad who was so eager to be a true knight, it seemed that he had found his own ghosts.

Still he was back in King’s Landing now having been summoned by the king in order to attend the king’s wedding to Myrcella Lannister, a marriage that did not sit well with Arthur the girl was just that a girl, a child, barely old enough to have any sort of relationship with and yet the king’s councillors were insisting that the king wed and bed her, it would be rape and Arthur would not be able to stand by this time, his vows, his honour, his consciousness would not be able to allow it. And yet there had been other matters that had taken up much of his time before the wedding, alongside Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan he had been tasked with choosing another two knights to join the Kingsguard, Ser Oswell had died outside Summerhall, and Ser Godry had died at the Streams. So far to join them had been Ser Harrold Goodbrook but another knight they could not find.

But for now though Arthur had to go and see the king about something or the other, Viserys had not been particular when he had asked for Arthur to come and see him earlier this morning. The king looked dishevelled and as if he had not slept for a long time when Arthur entered his solar. “Sit down Ser” the king said. Once Arthur was seated, the king closed the door and then gave Arthur a glass of wine and said. “Do you know what happens in a week’s time Ser Arthur?”

Arthur was silent for moment thinking and then he said. “Your wedding to the lady Myrcella Your Grace. What of it?”

“I know what my council has told me about the necessity of this marriage, wed and bed Myrcella and I will most likely get her with child and secure the dynasty and also have the Rock in my hands. And yet I have found that I cannot stomach the thought of it all, the girl is nothing but a child, she might have flowered but she is but a girl, nothing more. I will not turn into my father or my brother and take someone who is unwilling and unsure about what it is they want into my bed. I will not do it, the dynasty be damned.” The king said heatedly.

“Then why not simply put your foot down Your Grace? You are the king, they might complain and moan but they will listen to you, if they do not then they can be dismissed. Do what you think is right Your Grace, do not fall victim to the urges that your brother and father fell urge to.” Arthur implored of the king.

The king looks at him then and says. “I would if I could, but I cannot go in the face of my advisors like that, I need to keep them on board with some of what I plan on doing before Rhaegon Blackfyre comes knocking on the gates of King’s Landing, otherwise I will face mass desertion. No, I cannot let her go, however, if someone who had access to her rooms was to let her go without anyone knowing about it then I believe that could be the solution to our quandary.”

It takes Arthur a moment to realise what the king is suggesting and once he realises he looks at the king and asks in surprise. “You want me to aid Myrcella Lannister in escaping Your Grace? But why me? Why not simply get one of the birds let her go?”

“You could not help Lyanna Stark escape from my brother all those years ago, Rhaegar had bewitched you into doing something that broke everything you stood for. I am giving you a chance to regain your honour and defend someone who needs your help the most. What are the vows of a knight? To defend the weak and innocent, do this for me Ser Arthur and you will be making up for the year you spent guarding Lyanna Stark. And your own conscious will be relieved.” The king says.

Sighing Arthur nods his head and then two days later once he has made all the arrangements, he goes to visit Lady Myrcella, she is sat reading a book by the fire, when he enters. “My lady,” Ser Arthur says bowing.

“Ser Arthur what can I do for you?” Lady Myrcella asks, calm and composed so different to how her mother would have reacted had it been her there.

“I need you to come with me my lady, and I need you not to ask any questions until we are out of the castle.” Ser Arthur says.

Lady Myrcella hesitates, and then she finally says. “Okay then, give me a moment.” Arthur averts his eyes as she gets changed into a plain pair of breeches and tunic, a smart girl for one so young.

They walk in silence for a long time and then once they leave the Red Keep, Arthur takes her to a place where he and Elia once had spent time talking in the early days of her marriage to Rhaegar, there as the king promised is a brown horse ready for riding. “Get on the horse my lady.” Ser Arthur says.

Lady Myrcella looks at him confused. “I am not sure I understand Ser, why am I getting on this horse, what purpose does it serve?”

Arthur sighs then and says. “I know you do not want to marry the King, and the king feels to horrified by the match to go through with it. I am helping you escape from King’s Landing before you can be used against the king and yourself by those who would do such things. You shall be riding with a friend of mine, Eltor,” as he says the man’s name his boyhood companion who had come to Volantis appears dressed in the same clothes as the lady. “Eltor shall see you safely to Crow’s Corner; he has a letter that will prove who you both are. You will be safe there my lady.”

With that Lady Myrcella mounts her horse, and Arthur watches as she and Eltor ride out of the enclosure and towards Crow’s Corner, for once in a long time he feels as if he has done the right thing.

* * *

 

**Shiera Snow**

Shiera Snow was not a patient person; she could never abide by the dullness of peace and serenity that had engulfed Winterfell following the ending of the first wildling rebellion. Whilst her brother Benjen had been horrified by what he had seen during the war, Shiera had revelled in it, for her it was a chance to stop pretending to be something she was not, some airheaded lady who did nothing put sew and chatter aimlessly about this lord’s son or that knight. To her that was the most boring thing imaginable and it had once caused her to storm out of the room where her mother and cousins had been sewing on more than one occasion, simply because she could understand how they could abide by doing such tasks especially when there was so much more out there for them to do and experience. She had jumped at the chance at heading south to fight in the war that was currently being waged south of the Neck, not only was it a chance to avenge her uncle Ned but it was also a chance to get rid of those god damned Targaryens who had thought to take what was not theirs. For Shiera there was nothing worse than a Targaryen, those arrogant ingrates who had thought themselves better than everyone else who had harmed her mother and harmed her adopted father, she wanted to make them pay and she was going to do just that.

Shiera knew that her mother often wanted what was best for her, but she often found that her mother’s attempts to keep her solely locked up as it were in Winterfell were more harmful for her than beneficial, she was someone who needed to be active constantly otherwise she would do or say things that would often get her into trouble or that she would regret in later on. She loved her mother fiercely though and was proud that it was Lyanna Stark who had raised her not some gods damned inbred Targaryen. She also fiercely loved her adoptive father Aemon Stark, seeing him as what a true king and man should be, proud, fierce and smart and caring. Shiera had been heart broken when she had heard of his death but she had been somewhat pleased that he had died doing what every king should do, defending their people. Of course with her adoptive father’s death her brother Benjen had become king, and though Benjen was a man grown with a wife of his own, there was some part of Shiera that did not think that he was ready to become king yet. As far as she was concerned her brother was a bit too closed minded about the different warrior cultures that he ruled over, if it was not something to do with books or history her brother did not seem to understand it, and yet she knew he could become a great king, perhaps the best king the north had ever had. As for her other siblings well Shiera had never truly been able to connect with them on any sort of serious level apart from Visenya who she loved and adored, but knew not what more to make of her.

As to the war, well for Shiera it had been everything she had expected and more. She was squiring for her grandmother Visenya Stark, a woman she respected and admired, and the one person apart from Benjen who truly understood her. Shiera had grown up admiring her grandmother, admiring just how she had managed to build up the strength of the Blackfyres in the south and in the north and had prepared her troops for the task at hand. All that hard work had paid off, in the sense that when they had landed in the south, the strength of the Reach had come to answer their call, and when they had taken the Westerlands and led the Golden Lion away from Riverrun they had won the allegiance of both the Riverlands, the Stormlands and the Vale. This had all contributed in giving them quite a formidable amount of strength with which to threaten King’s Landing and the Targaryen who sat there, her uncle Viserys Targaryen. Shiera as Visenya’s squire had fought at the battle that had seen the golden lion slain, she herself had been the one to kill the monster that was Gregor Clegane, the man was big and strong but stupid, and Shiera being quick and smart had chosen a time when the brute was injured and slowed down by the injuries, she had picked away at him and brought him down.

The campaign had experienced one minor setback at the battle of the streams, where the Targaryen forces managed to out trump the forces led by Elbert Arryn, Arryn himself had been slain by Ser Arthur Dayne and Robb Baratheon had led the remenants of the forces back to Riverrun to recuperate and to plan. Viserys Targaryen had lost one of his key pieces for the west when news had come that Myrcella Lannister had arrived at Crow’s Corner about a day before her supposed wedding to the Targaryen, it seemed that someone within the Targaryen camp was trying to undermine that pretender. That news had been greeted with much fervour and pleasure within the ranks, and Borros Reyne that old fool seemed to be most happy. As for the man they were all fighting for Rhaegon Blackfyre, well the man seemed unperturbed by anything that was thrown his way, a smart man he was, a great king he would be, as would his son Maegor Blackfyre. All the Blackfyres seemed to be very smart and capable and stable. All of which boded well for them. They had marched from the west and had arrived in Riverrun some four days ago, and plans had been made for their march on King’s Landing. Shiera would be with her grandmother in the vanguard, along with some 10,000 other men and women, whilst Rhaegon Blackfyre had command of the left, Ser Robb Reyne commanded the right and the reserve was commanded by Rhaegon’s son Maegor.

They had set out at a fast pace two days ago and King’s Landing was some four days away from what their scouts reported but that was not what Shiera was excited about, it was the fact that the army of the Targaryens had been spotted. The red dragon of House Targaryen had been seen flying high above the grounds of the Blackwater Rush. Visenya had moved their part of the army into a quick march getting ready for the battle though she had warned Shiera. “Keep your calm, and do not let your pride and anger cloud your judgement. You have done well so far Visenya do not let it all go south from here. Remember what I told you, do not let your desire for vengeance cloud what needs to be done. They will come to you for death, do not go to them for death. You are their Harbringer not the other way around. Patience is a virtue we can keep fighting but do not lose sight of the goal, do all you can to achieve it and sooner or later we shall obtain it.”

Shiera had nodded at that and now her words echoed through her head as the war horns were sounded and battle began. A crash of steel on steel, swinging her sword like a woman possessed, Shiera brought men down with a swing, a hack, and a cut. Down they fell screaming and shouting for their mothers and loved ones, Shiera moved on laughing as she did so, bringing men down, her sword bathed in red, on and on it went, hacking and slashing, bringing them down before her. She fought a man in a white cloak who seemed as big as a bull and she got a good fight from him, swinging and hacking, they gave each other a fair share of blows and bruises but Shiera’s greater speed eventually gave her the edge and she brought the white bull down with a swing, a thrust and a jab. Her sword and armour covered in blood she moved on, swinging her sword clearing a path through the men of the army, bringing down yet another member of Viserys Targaryen’s Kingsguard before she eventually came before the man himself.

Viserys Targaryen was taller than she imagined, bigger and broader, but he was still her uncle and she would kill him or be killed attempting to do so. She spurred her mount forward and brought her sword up swinging, and so began their dance. Swinging and hacking, left and right, they fought swinging and swinging and swinging, her uncle was trying not to kill her but she was trying to kill him and so she screamed. “Fight me you coward, fight me!” and that spurred him on, they exchanged blows swinging left, right and centre, swinging and swinging, until they were both bruised and battered and both of their horses were beaten and worn, arrows were flying around them screams were echoing through their heads, and still they fought. Niece and uncle died on each other’s swords, through the stomach, on the 29th day of the 12th month of the 299th year after Aegon’s Landing. Shiera’s death and Viserys’ death allowed King’s Landing to fall to the Blackfyres, Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Arys Oakheart were also killed by Shiera Snow. Ser Barristan Selmy was killed by Visenya Blackfyre in revenge for the man’s killing of her brother Maelys the two headed. Ser Arthur Dayne was captured and the last member of Viserys Kingsguard Ser Harrold Goodbrook later died from his wounds. The Black Dragon had won, at last.


	29. The Bells Are Ringing

**Visenya Blackfyre**

The war that she had been planning for the better part of her life had come, the Baratheons the bastard of shoot of the Targaryens had been lain low by Lannister greed, and had taken to fighting amongst themselves. Viserys Targaryen an eager green boy had landed and began raiding the Stormlands, capturing the lightly held Storm’s End, and Visenya had sensed an opportunity, and against her son and grandson’s wishes she had mobilised her troops and set sail for the Reach. From there they had planned their battles, the Riverlands had been too torn in war to be fully beneficial to the cause, and as such the Westerlands had many a bone to be picked and so it was that they invaded the Westerlands. The Westerlands had shimmered under the flag of the Black Dragon and the Lannisters, that family that Borros had so hated had been ended quite thoroughly, and when Visenya had killed Jaime Lannister she had felt so much happiness in that she had managed to end the line of the golden lion once and for all. Her lover had died happy and peaceful in Casterly Rock following that news.

From there had been fighting in the riverlands that they had not been able to get to in time, and that had seen their only defeat in the entire war, it was an annoyance at most nothing more than that. Elbert Arryn a brilliant fighter and tactician had planned the move in such a way that even if his forces lost the Targaryens would face a stiff task of defending King’s Landing. It had worked Viserys Targaryen had been forced to meet them some four days away from King’s Landing in open battle and Visenya had fought with an urge that she had not thought she still had, she was old but still she was able to bring down men much younger than her. Killing Barristan Selmy the man who had killed her beloved brother Maelys had been something that had brought her great joy and satisfaction though the bastard had managed to wound her quit significantly during their fight. The only one small blip during what had been a beautiful battle had been the death of her adoptive granddaughter Shiera, the girl had served as her squire and had gone on ahead killing two knights of the Kingsguard before killing Viserys Targaryen himself, but she had died on his sword as he had died on hers. Visenya was slightly worried as to what her death would mean for relations between her nephew and her grandson for Shiera was Benjen’s favourite sister and with both his father and sister dead, it was possible the harmony between north and south would end or be nonexistent soon enough.

Still that was not a matter she was completely worried about, for now she was dying her wounds were quite bad so Grand Maester Marwyn said, and she knew she did not have long left to live, and was only surviving by sheer force of will. And so it was that with the aid of crutches she watched as her nephew, the boy who she had taken in following the ending of Maelys life, and whom she had raised and treated as one of her own, whom she loved more than she had even her firstborn son Aemon, have the crown of Aegon the Dragonbane, placed upon his head. And she listened as he recited the words “By the father, the mother, the crone, the warrior, the smith and the stranger, I do hereby swear to rule the kingdom placed under my protection by the light of the gods to the best of my ability. I do hereby swear to rule justly and fairly, and to treat no person, be they man, woman or child more fairly than I would treat any other. I do hereby swear that I will do all in my power to ensure peace and prosperity come to Westeros and remain for many generations to come. By the seven I do swear.”

With that done Visenya heard the High Septon announce loudly. “This man, Rhaegon Blackfyre has sworn to defend the weak and innocent to rule as wisely as Baelor the blessed and Aegon the Conqueror ruled. We have heard his solemn vow, it is now up to the gods to oversee his reign. I do hereby anoint you, Rhaegon of the House Blackfyre, King of the Five kingdoms, Protector of the Realm and Lord of the Andals and the Rhoynar. To the seven I pray, that this man rules justly and wisely, and that his reign and that of his descendants are forever peaceful.”

The crown is placed upon his head and the crowd gathered cheers and Visenya smiles for in that instant she sees not her nephew but her brother Maelys  sat there in the throne, smiling and waving at her, and everything is perfect the world is as it should be. There are no more Targaryens in Westeros to cause them trouble, those lords that might have caused them trouble have been dealt with, Lannister, Dragonbane and Florent all dealt with. Visenya stands in the crowds as her nephew names his small council and Kingsguard. He names his eldest son and heir Maegor hand of the king a smart choice, he names Petyr Baelish as master of coin another smart move, Master of Laws he gives to Lord Robb Reyne a man newly married to Myrcella Lannister and given Casterly Rock, Master of Ships remains with Lord Monford Velaryon, Master of Whispers goes to Lord Daemon Peake the previous master of whispers having been executed and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard goes to Ser Arthur Dayne.

That all done, Visenya retires to her rooms and goes to sleep and never wakes up again. She dies happy and peaceful, her wounds causing her to rest in eternal slumber, she was fifty seven, on the tenth day of the 1st month of the 300th year After Aegon’s Landing. A true character has left the world.

* * *

 

**King Benjen III Stark**

War it was something he would never be able to understand. War had cost him a lot, and still there would be times he knew in the future where he would need to march north to deal with those god damned idiots amongst the free folk who could not understand that they would never win, not against him and not against the north. The war in the north had cost him his father, his strong father, who had been like his hero for so long, his father’s death had been a huge blow but he had gotten his revenge on the bastards responsible for it, the free folk now knew never to cross him again and his show of strength during the campaign had won him the everlasting loyalty of men like Tormund Giantsbane and Sigorn the Magnar of Thenn as well as the Giants, not foes some of the more rebellious wildlings would want to cross.

The war in the south, that was a war he had never wanted his family to get involved  in, as far as he was concerned whenever northmen went south of the neck they went to die, and as far as he cared the southerners could all rot in each one of the seven hells. Of course his grandmother had ridden south and she had died, but before she had died she had done what she only harped on about, putting Rhaegon bloody Blackfyre on the Iron Throne so at least her death had done some good. His sister Shiera though, now that was a death that angered him the most, in that it was the most senseless thing to have happened. His sister had always hated the Targaryens, Benjen had always known that hell he had hated them as well, for what they had done to his mother and his family over the years, but he had not wanted Shiera to go south, he had begged her not to go south, saying they could always deal with the Targaryens another time or someone else would do it for her, and that he wanted her, needed her in the north with him. His sister had laughed and said that only she could end the Targaryens in Westeros once and for all and so she had ridden south and she had done what she had said and died. And Benjen was furious, his mother was heartbroken and he was angry. His sister, his beloved Shiera dead just to seat some god damned dragon on the throne, and for what, a sword through the bowels and little to no acknowledgement form those god damned southerners. Pah the south was worth nothing, and so Benjen had accepted Rhaegon’s condolences and then ordered the causeway guarded, no southerner would enter the north without his knowledge or leave, and with his abilities as a greenseer he would make the south pay one way or another. Not through war there were other ways to make them pay than with needless violence.

Things between himself and his wife had improved markedly since they had returned from the lands beyond the wall. They had both come to appreciate the more finer aspects of one another, fighting in war did that to people he supposed it made them appreciate qualities that they would never have thought to look for otherwise. And so he hoped that they were beginning to love one another, though he was too scared to broach the topic with his wife for fear of what she would say. As to his mother, well Lyanna Stark had always been strong willed but she seemed to have much more withdrawn following both her husband and daughter’s deaths, and as such Benjen gave her leave to head to Moat Cailin to spend some time there. Thankfully Brandon and Visenya had gone to the Moat with her and kept her company. Meanwhile Benjen had ensured that his sister Lyarra was wed to Harrion Karstark the Lord of Karhold and a good man, and it seemed to be match his sister enjoyed. As for Brandon well his brother wished to join the watch or the Winter’s Guard and Benjen had asked him to wait until he turned sixteen before he made such a huge decision. As for Visenya well his sister had decided to join the Winter’s Guard and Benjen had allowed her to, simply because he did not have the heart to refuse her.

The door to the birthing chamber opened and Benjen raised his head. Old Nan appeared and said in a tottering voice. “You’re wanted inside Your Grace.”

Benjen nodded his thanks and then walked straight into the room, where he found his goodsister Dalla, and her son Aemon Steelsong, both sat on the edge of the bed whilst his wife held two bundles in her arms. His wife looked up and she had never looked as beautiful to Benjen as she did then, her hair pulled back and her skin flushed. “Say hello to your son and daughter Your Grace.” His wife said smiling.

Benjen took the babe in his wife’s left arm from her and stared down at the babe awed, a boy, with his wife’s blond hair and his long face stared back at him. “Hello there,” he whispered. “Hello there son.” He looked at the other babe and said. “I know you don’t normally name babes before their second namedays, but what should we call them?”

“Well first why don’t you look at your daughter Your Grace?” his goodsister asked.

Benjen smiled like a fool and took his daughter from his wife’s arms handing her their son, and his breath hitched, his daughter looked exactly like him with her long face, grey eyes and brown hair. “Hello sweetling.” He whispered and he felt himself begin to choke up, he quickly swallowed and then said. “Well my love what would you wish them named?”

“I was thinking perhaps Bael and Lyanarra. For the two from the song.” His wife replied softly.

“There we go, well hello Lyanarra and Bael Stark. My children.” Benjen said feeling awed.

* * *

 

**Princess Daenaerys Targaryen of Volantis**

Volantis glistened with lights and colour it was her goodfather King Maegor I Targaryen’s nameday and as such was being celebrated with all the pomp that was appropriate for such a thing. Daenaerys watched from the stands as the people sang, danced and drank and play fought with one another. Her husband Prince Vaegor Targaryen heir to the Black Throne balanced their daughter Alysanne and their son Rhaegon on both of his knees. Daenaerys had their sons Jaehaerys and Viserys in her arms as they slept peacefully. Daenaerys was quite happy and content with her life, her husband was a good and kind man, smart and charming as well, and their children though they were handfuls at times, provided them with bundles of joy and laughs. She would not have her life any other way.

Volantis itself was going through something of a very peaceful time right now, whilst there had been war in Westeros and the northern part of Essos between Qohor and Norvos, Volantis and the former three daughters had experienced peace and plenty. Trade flourished between the kingdom and the other free cities, and Dany had seen the people of the kingdom get fat on peace and prosperity. Her husband’s family were well loved by nobles and common folk alike and as such were able to host such events as were being hosted just now on a somewhat regular basis, more for the common folk’s entertainment and to provide opportunity to discuss business and what not for the nobles, including her husband.

Essos as a whole was going through some changes, whilst the Western part of the continent from Bravos through to Volantis remained largely the same in terms of economy and trade and the standards expected in terms of conduct, across in Slaver’s Bay and Eastern Essos there were changes occurring there had been successful slaver revolts in Meeren and Astapor with Yunkai looking as if it too could fall prey to the trend. In Asshai her husband had told her that it seemed the rulers of that far flung place were finally beginning to stir from their decades long slumber in order to combat whatever threats there could be in such a place, a place that held much mystery and fear for many from Volantis even one such as her husband’s uncle Laenor who had travelled far and wide. Still there were some murmurs that perhaps these changes could affect Volantis and as such plans were being put in place for such events to occur in order to prevent them from happening.

As for her brother and Westeros, that was something Dany was not sure she knew what to feel. Her brother had always been kind and loving to her, she had overlooked his faults in terms of his whoring and other excesses because he loved her and did what he could to ensure she had all the comfort she could have. He had been determined not obsessed to get back to Westeros and reclaim what he saw as rightfully his, and he had managed to do it, he had been crowned king and had sat the Iron Throne, the same throne where their father and their ancestors had sat before him. He had managed to see off most of the threats to his rule, but then he had been slain by their bastard niece Shiera Snow a woman who was said to be mighty fiercesome and unbeatable with a sword in her hand. Her brother had died outside King’s Landing defending something that he had fought so hard to reclaim, and she was not sure what she should feel, whether she should feel happy he got what he wanted or whether he died before he could truly find himself there. Westeros itself had supposedly now found peace under the Blackfyres, Rhaegon Blackfyre was said to be ruling wisely and justly and was doing much to bring about peace and prosperity back to Westeros something that Dany could not help feeling her brother could have done just as well.

“Are you well my love?” Her husband asked whispering in her ear.

Dany looked at her husband and at their children who were all fast asleep before she replied. “Aye I am my love. I was merely thinking is all.”

“What about my love? I have not seen you concentrate that hard in a long time. Is there something bothering you?” Vaegor asked.

Dany sighed and said. “I was thinking about my brother is all. I was just wondering if he found the peace and fulfilment that he had been looking for, for most of his life in Westeros. And whether or not he found fulfilment in completing what he saw as his duty to our family. He died after ruling for just half a year, I do not know why they would not just accept him as their king, after all were they not wanting a Targaryen king anymore?”

Her husband sighed and said. “We will never know for sure my love. Viserys was a brave, smart and honourable man, and he did what he thought was right. He fought for what he believed in and he had men who were wise in the ways of war and life to guide him. That he was so successful is just an indication of what he was capable of. That he died before he had the chance to truly show what he could be like is more of a shame than it is a question. Remember him as he was not as he could have been, otherwise the pain will only get worse and will never heal.”

“When did you get so wise my love?” Dany teased her husband.

Vaegor merely smiled and said. “When I married you, I learnt a lot from you and from your brother and from my father as well. But seriously Dany, my love, we must move forward we cannot be stuck in the past. We have a life here and our children need us both.”

Dany smiles and says. “I know my love. I will always be here for our children and for you. Always.”


	30. Waves The End

**Maester’s Interlude**

Following the end of what would become known was the war of the four kings, Westeros entered a decades long peace with Rhaegon Blackfyre the man known as the conqueror and the vindicated ruling for twenty years before he died one night in his sleep. His son Maegor Blackfyre continued to rule well and did all he could to ensure that peace in the southern kingdoms remained, Dorne was welcomed back into the Iron Throne’s realm by the marriage of Maegor Blackfyre’s son and heir Aeron Blackfyre to Princess Gwyneth Yronwood, the Dornish this time round were accepted much more openly by the court and were seen not as villains but as equals and contemporaries, by a largely pro Blackfyre court. Under first King Rhaegon and then King Maegor, overtures were made to the north to establish some sort of warmer relationship, but King Benjen III Stark refused to act anything but cordial with the Blackfyres still angered by the death of his beloved sister Shiera, it was only following some sort of trip beyond the wall that King Benjen Stark decided to take a different tact with the Blackfyres and things began to become warmer between to the two kingdoms.

In the southern kingdoms, especially in the Westerlands and the Riverlands the two kingdoms most affected by the war much work was done in order to bring peace and stability back to the regions. Lord Robb Reyne the Lord of Casterly Rock by virtue of his marriage to Myrcella Lannister used the gold from the Rock and from the mines around his ancestral home of Castamere to refurbish and rebuild the Westerlands, something that earnt him the love and respect of many of the Westerlords something that the Lannisters had never had. In the Riverlands, Edmure Tully ascended to Lordship of the Riverlands and married Allyria Dayne the aunt of war hero Jon Stark, Tully worked closely with the Iron Throne and with his nephew Robert Arryn to see the Riverlands healed from the war that had torn them apart, Houses Darry, Goodbrook and Smallwood were all extinguished in the male lines by the end of King Rhaegon reign on the Iron Throne. In the Reach, the Osgreys continued as overlords though House Tyrell were granted the lands and incomes of Brightwater Keep and lived up to their motto of Growing Strong. Maelys Blackfyre the youngest child of both Visenya Stark and Borros Reyne was given castle Dragonwood by his cousin Rhaegon Blackfyre, Dragonwood being the old seat of Daemon Blackfyre, the black dragon was seen as a great honour by many in court and made Maelys Blackfyre a much sort after suitor.

In the kingdom of the north and Iron Islands, King Benjen III Stark ruled well into his eighties, seeing just one other rebellion during that time. Led by man simply known as the Head, the Head gathered some 5,000 free folk to his side before being put down by Tormund Giantsbane. It appeared that Benjen Stark developed something of a fierce reputation amongst the northern, Ironborn and sistermen lords as well as amongst the free folk, though not martial in nature, Benjen Stark was known as a greenseer and as such this gave him the edge over many of his would be foes and made sure that all of them did their best to remain on his good side. With his wife Val, Benjen had six children, his eldest children were the twins Bael and Lyanarra named after the famous duo from the song, he then had two boys named Edrick and Edwyn and two girls named Sansa and Serena. Bael grew up to be a fine young lad, strong and martially minded a man who inspired confidence from his father’s lords and other retainers. Edwyn and Edrick became their brother’s right and left hand’s in councils towards the end of their father’s reigns both of them pushing hard for what their brother wanted and ensuring that his will got done. Bael was wed to Alysanne Ryswell of the Rills whilst, Edwyn was wed to Sigorn Thenn’s daughter by Alys Karstark Robyn. Edrick joined the Winter’s Guard and soon became its Lord Commander. Benjen’s daughters Lyanarra, Sansa and Serena all made matches that would strengthen their father’s hold over his kingdom. Lyanarra wed the heir to the Iron Islands Borros Greyjoy, whilst Sansa wed Tormund Giantsbane’s grandson Mag and Serena wed Brandon Sisterstark the lord of the Three Sisters.

In Volantis, the long peace that had lasted through much of King Maegor Targaryen’s rule ended with his death. Killed by an assassin, his son King Vaegor spent much of his own reign fighting those from Yunkai, Meeren and Astapor who wished to see a new dynasty installed on the Black Throne. In the end King Vaegor’s reign lasted for ten bloody years in which he crushed seven wars in total, it is interesting to note that during that time he had the support of all of his noblemen in the territories ruled by Volantis. His son King Rhaego I however faced some rebellions in Lys and Myr that took roughly five years to crush, and once they were ended House Targaryen of Volantis’ rule over their kingdom was secure and Essos once again bowed to the might of dragons.

The chaos that had begun when Daemon Blackfyre, the original Blackfyre had rebelled, had caused chaos for generations following his death, and with the ascension of his descendant Rhaegon Blackfyre, peace was finally achieved for good in Westeros. It was something that all rejoiced in and something that truly seemed as if it would last, the everlasting peace that Aegon the Conqueror had foreseen for his people and his children when he had taken the throne, had finally been achieved,. Though of course how long it lasted was for anyone to guess, after all this was Westeros that was spoken of, and nothing is certain as long as the game of thrones and the game of ice and fire is played.


End file.
